Shabby, not chic

I made this photo on July 9 near Sue’s house, but I didn’t have time to write about it or post it.

I was drawn with affection to two well-loved, well-used chairs sitting on the curb. The recliner chair caught hold of my heart: hair oils and worn spots on headrest and arms. Who rested here? Who labored and came home to a little ease, who felt safe here night after night, who fell asleep to the flicker of a TV? And the velveteen rabbit chair, chewed perhaps by a dog or cat: that too. 

Moving day often comes on the first of July. During the ten years I lived with my mother and stepfather, we always moved on the first of July. School is out. Leases run out. After that migratory childhood, I spent most of my adult life moving on the first of July, searching for a cheaper place, closer to public transport, ideally walking-distance from work or school, maybe with a little more space for Seth’s Legos and books.

I’m sorry whoever lived with these chairs didn’t have the money to get them hauled away, but I recognize the dilemma. You need to save enough for first and last month’s rent, maybe a pet deposit or a cleaning deposit in addition; you may have a friend with a truck, or you may have to rent a truck. You count the few dollars you have left for cleaning supplies and food. Maybe you have pals with strong backs or maybe not. Maybe the new place is a better location, but smaller, and you don’t have room for your old raggedy chairs. You do your best, and you may have to leave something on the curb, hoping someone else will find it useful. You glance back with regret and affection, and then you face forward into the next hurdle.

After I’d made the photo, Sue and I were leaving her place to take an afternoon walk, and a young woman came toward us, lugging the recliner in this photo. She put down the chair to rest and we greeted her. She said her name is Kiri, she lives a block and a half away, and she wants to put the chair on her porch for the summer. No, she didn’t need help, she said, but thanks. Later we laughed at how it must have looked to her, two old ladies with stiff backs, offering to help.