One of my fondest memories as a child was visiting my grandparents and sitting in Grandma's chair. We fought over the honour, I am not proud. I remember this chair as her place, where she sat to speak to us, read to us and with the patience of Job, she taught us to knit. I loved that chair.
As time and space moves us forward through this life, my grandparents have left us with memories and legacies. Little did I know, that chair was sitting in my father's basement a few kilometers away. My Dad mentioned it to me and asked if I wanted it. Of course! But I thought it would be one of those some day things if you know what I mean. My Dad came by with the chair and it was mine! It took all of my effort not to cry as Ian set it in my living room. I had her chair, a piece of precious family history. It meant so much to me.
My grandparents were frugal people of simple means and my Dad told me the story of the chair and I had to laugh, because I know that like so many things, frugality must have become part of the family DNA. My Dad said the chair came from the Sears Warehouse in 1967 and had been recovered several times. Upon close examination, I could see stitching along the arms.
Reader's of this blog know that my Grandma's chair is destined for yet another recover. I don't think I will do it myself, but while I search for the perfect fabric, I have found some printed cotton that will suffice a cover for now.
My Grandmother loved dogs. So do I, and Ian found this photo of my Grandma in her special chair with her dog Laddie. This photo will be printed and placed in a frame near her chair as a reminder to everyone of just how special she was to me.
Live High,
Heather
