Saturday, May 7, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Pull up a chair
Ikea can be a scary place for new couples.
It's like the first test of finding out if your lifestyles, home decor tastes, and goals for your future family and living situations really match up.
It's like a dress rehearsal to "playing house."
As we walked through the office section you stopped me and pointed to a chair on the wall. It was a round swivel chair with white fabric, and birds and leaves printed across it with orange petals going through. It was a chair that had caught my eye before, as I was generally attracted to indie style bird designs and anything orange. [above my dresser rests a gorgeous canvas of a silhouette of a bird against a sunset- the oranges, blues, and sages popping out from behind the black]
"I wanted to get you that for Christmas before I found your pea coat."
"aw really? But I love my pea coat "
"I know. But I remember you saying you wanted a chair for your room so you can sit in it and play guitar. I looked all over at antique stores and other places to try to find you the perfect guitar chair. I saw this one and immediately thought of you"
I was shocked. Speechless in fact. I had remembered mentioning to you that I wanted a chair to play guitar in- but hadn't considered the idea that you would have really understood what it meant to me. It would have been something that was mine. Something therapeutic, a place for me to be creative and play my soul out. I had not even thought that in bringing it up that you'd ever think twice about it, that you could possibly understand it's significance.
But you imagined me playing my guitar in that chair. And in that second I imagined myself in that chair too, strumming, happy, thinking about you.
It's thoughts like these that count. And moments like these that I'll never forget.
It's like the first test of finding out if your lifestyles, home decor tastes, and goals for your future family and living situations really match up.
It's like a dress rehearsal to "playing house."
As we walked through the office section you stopped me and pointed to a chair on the wall. It was a round swivel chair with white fabric, and birds and leaves printed across it with orange petals going through. It was a chair that had caught my eye before, as I was generally attracted to indie style bird designs and anything orange. [above my dresser rests a gorgeous canvas of a silhouette of a bird against a sunset- the oranges, blues, and sages popping out from behind the black]
"I wanted to get you that for Christmas before I found your pea coat."
"aw really? But I love my pea coat "
"I know. But I remember you saying you wanted a chair for your room so you can sit in it and play guitar. I looked all over at antique stores and other places to try to find you the perfect guitar chair. I saw this one and immediately thought of you"
I was shocked. Speechless in fact. I had remembered mentioning to you that I wanted a chair to play guitar in- but hadn't considered the idea that you would have really understood what it meant to me. It would have been something that was mine. Something therapeutic, a place for me to be creative and play my soul out. I had not even thought that in bringing it up that you'd ever think twice about it, that you could possibly understand it's significance.
But you imagined me playing my guitar in that chair. And in that second I imagined myself in that chair too, strumming, happy, thinking about you.
It's thoughts like these that count. And moments like these that I'll never forget.
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