A Chair for Me?

I don't have a chair. Okay, this is not entirely true. I do have chairs. I just don't have one that feels like my own.

One of my current favorite children's picture books is A Chair for My Mother by Vera Williams.

In this story, Rosa, the narrator, tells, via first person, about the large jar that she, her mother, and her grandmother contribute money to in order to one day purchase a chair. Not just any chair, but rather a "beautiful, fat soft armchair...one covered in velvet with roses all over it...the best chair in the whole world." This chair will be a way for Mama to take a load off her feet and Grandma to sit back and hum comfortably. After a fire had destroyed their previous home, family and friends provided the three, and their cat, living space, a small bed, a table with three kitchen chairs, a rug, curtains, pots, pans, silverware and dishes, and a stuffed bear for Rosa. This was sufficient for living while Mama worked as a waitress at a diner, and Rosa sometimes helped out. Eventually, when the jar fills, the family is then able to fulfill its goal and find the chair that Rosa had imagined.

Looking back at my first sentence above, here is the deal. Much of my furniture has been inherited. The striped and floral sofa was my grandmother's. It's not exactly my style, but it's comfortable. The blue chairs that do not recline came from my parents when they purchased "stress free" chairs. The rocking chairs (I have two) were used. One came from a cousin. The other I found in someone's yard. A free giveaway. My plan has been to recover the cushions so that I can achieve some semblance of connection between pieces of furniture. My dining table was actually a table given to me by a retired teacher to use in my classroom when I taught elementary. I took off the table's legs so children could sit on the floor and use the table top as a surface for drawing or doing jigsaw puzzles. The table stands now with four card table chairs.

While my bedroom furniture is my own, along with the piece in the living room that holds the television and video player, the only chair that is truly my own is a video rocker or J-chair that sits on the floor and rocks. I bought this for my dorm room back in college--last century (if I wish to be technical with time).
I am thankful that I have furniture. I know it has not been priority to find new pieces as long as I have some, but the mismatching bothers me. The hodgepodge in my home.
I really do want a real dining room table one day.
I really do want a sofa and reclining chairs that match.
I think.

There are two aspects that I love about A Chair for My Mother and the subsequent stories: Something Special for Me; Music, Music, for Everyone; and A Chair for Always. One is that little seems to be needed to create joy and contentment among the characters. Meaning that it literally does not take much to make someone happy. Why is this so difficult to achieve nowadays? Perhaps it's not, but it has been a struggle for me.

The other aspect that stands out for me is the importance and value of family. I often think about family and who is my family--not only for my sake, but also for my daughter's sake. Rosa is an only child. Her mother is a single parent. I do not recall once feeling a lack of a sense of belonging for Rosa and her family.

These are what I want more than new matching furniture--true belief that my daughter and I don't need lots of stuff to achieve joy and contentment, and, a strong sense of belonging when we're among family and people who we believe are friends.

To belonging, a sense of peace, and to having a safe and comfortable place of our own to sit, relax, and be.

~Tamara