Cherishing two Chairs.

As a small family at the time, we only needed four chairs to circle our round kitchen table.

Even as a little girl I noticed the details of the chair I climbed each evening to reach my dinner.

At the time, the chairs were a stark cream color. Mom bought them from an antique store and used her talent to fix them up. A floral pattern of pink roses was scattered across a cushion that delicately sat atop the round seat. A big bow tied across the back anchored the cushion securely beneath my squirly little girl self.

These chairs were kind most days, allowing me access to child-friendly foods such as mac and cheese or oreo cookies. More than once these chairs aided in my investigation of the kitchen cupboards. Another time these chairs watched my 5 year old hands explore the buttery taste of lobster. These chairs were often pushed up to the kitchen sink so I could wash and dry dishes like mom. On rare occasions these chairs weren't so kind. Upon my refusal to eat a single spoonful of pea soup, these chairs instantly resembled confinement.

As our family grew, our little round table was replaced with a larger, newer one. The old one soon disappeared and so did two of our little chairs. However, the remaining two chairs were retired to a corner of the basement where they sat for years.

Desperate to paint something one day in my teens, I dug up my moms' acrylics and reached for one of the lonely chairs. I brightened it up with messy streaks of pink, blue, yellow and green, but once the excitement had faded, my chair returned to the basement.

Years later I dusted off the other chair and painted it a happy shade of orange sorbet to match my sunshine bedroom. My work was infinitely better- the paint was smooth and even this time, but I was no artist.


Even more years passed, and I'm standing in the fabric store desperately comparing the same pattern of canvas in two different shades. Blue and green have always tickled my fancy, and this fabric was no exception. I loved them both, and I could simply not choose between them. But somewhere in the corner of my mind, an image of our old kitchen chairs tugged at my thoughts.

I dug those chairs out of the basement and cleaned them up. I sanded out the ridges and smoothed down rough corners. I added yet another coat of paint- this time those chairs are back to their original color.

I fully intend to use these chairs at my very first kitchen table, just as my mom did 20 years ago for her small family. Before I know it I'll have little ones of my own to climb up on them.