Saving a Chair

Maybe I was feeling a little nostalgic about Mother’s Day.
Maybe it was because Daniel was working like a fiend on his autobiography project—and I was helping him compile photos from growing up, and reading his version of the memories. I don’t know if it is a sad tribute to the Suzuki method of violin, or to me….but I had forgotten how we used to argue about the proper placement of the margarine box/paint stick that was his first violin. Really Suzuki? I was supposed to sit in on all the lessons and practice with him every day? I was supposed to remember and reinforce the exact placement of his elbow, and he was going to remember that forever.? Sigh.

At any rate, on Monday when it came time to throw this particular chair in the dumpster, I just couldn’t do it. It was a great chair before the glide pedestal broke off. The glider footstool that provided the true comfort broke years ago–not sure, but I’m guessing it was from multiple kids ‘surfing’ on that thing.
My parents bought us this glider–where they wisely guessed we might spend hours with babies. I’m most nostalgic about those middle of the night feedings, where I was alone in the world with each baby, in turn. The little cottage we lived in had these weird orange sconces. I fell in love with those little bald heads in this chair. In that quiet orange glow, I learned what Sylvia Boorstein meant–when she talked about mortgaging my heart for life.

In Daniel’s photo hunt, we came across a photo that didn’t mean so much to him, not such a good photo. It was our first family canoe trip, Shelby was the 4 year old expert on ‘Boundary Waters’ from her trips as a toddler, so she gave Daniel the lowdown for the entire car ride. When we arrived at the Seagull landing–Andy and I went into the bustling mode of unloading canoe and gear. It was July, 1999. We were in a hurry to secure a campsite, having no idea that we’d have the lake strangely to ourselves, because of a recent wind storm. We hadn’t been paying so much attention to the news I guess. We looked up, and the kids had climbed out of the car and were standing motionless at the edge of the water, just looking at ‘Boundary Waters’. I loved that moment.

Stop by my office. You are welcome to take a moment to sit in my chair and look at Boundary Waters.