The red floral armchair

Heading out to work one drizzly morning I saw the neighbor acoss the street carry a pink armchair to the curb. It was trash day. I asked if I could look at it.
I crossed the street and sat in it. The color was awful and it was damp, but it was very comfortable and the right size. Another neighbor helped me get it into my carport.

When my mother-in-law asked what I wanted for my birthday. She'd offered to re-cover another older chair and I asked if she'd do this one too. So we packed them into their truck and they went to north GA. We picked out some red floral fabric at this great little place on 441 and she got them re-covered.

My brother-in-law was dispatched to pick them up when they were done. He put them in the back of his open pick-up and proceeded up the mountain. My chair wasn't tied down and was surprisingly light. It isn't a wing chair, but it took flight! And crashed. The man who recovered it, fixed it. And they brought the red floral armchair to me in our little house, before Flash was born. It was the first thing set up in his room.

And when he was tiny, I fed and cuddled him there. And now that he's a little boy, we read and cuddle there. And sometimes before bedtime, I tell him the story of our chair.