Pull Up A Seat

In honor of XingfuMama’s Pull Up A Seat Photo Challenge:

(Thank you priorhouse blog for introducing me to it in the first place!)

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When I was a baby, I sat in a highchair.
Wooden, painted white.
I have a square, yellowed photo of it.
It has a pink bow around it, and
my mom is standing beside it,
smiling and visibly pregnant with me.
When they played Rook with friends,
they’d sit me in it and feed me crackers.
By the end of the night, there’d be a ring of crumbs
around that chair.

As a toddler, I sat on a stool.
Wooden, painted red.
It had a poem painted on it in white.
‘This little stool is mine, I use it all the time,
To reach the things I couldn’t, and lots of things I shouldn’t.’
I’d sit on it while my mom shaved her legs or
my dad shaved his face.
And I’d make up stories to the pictures in the book
that had words I couldn’t yet read.

Growing up, I sat in a reproduction Louis VIV chair.
My mom had it recovered in gray with tiny gold fleur de lis.
Both the seat and ottoman overstuffed.
I liked that we all called it the chaise lounge.
I sat there when we watched movies.
I opened Christmas presents in it.
Talked and drank hot tea with my grandma.
And I grew into it, my legs finally able to reach
and lay comfortably on the ottoman.

All through college and grad school I sat on a sofa.
Faux leather, black, old-school wingback.
It was the first piece of furniture I owned.
I found it in the classifieds and paid 25 dollars.
The seats were worn thin and the arms shredded by cats.
I loved that sofa.
I sat on one end, writing papers and making PowerPoints,
while Toad slept on the other end,
curled up on her black and white checked pillow.

As an adult, I sat in an armchair.
Cloth, brown, plain.
Both the seat and arms extra wide.
I worked in that chair,
making lesson plans when I taught and
care plans when I nursed.
Open books, notebooks, index cards, and teacups
balanced on the arms.
Pens and pencils and lip balm tucked into the seat.

Now we don’t have chairs in our house.
It’s an RV, molded fiberglass.
I sit on my bunk to write, propped up against pillows.
Our only seats are camp chairs.
Black canvas and mesh, sitting low to the ground, collapsible.
And lightweight. That’s mandatory.
We carry our seats with us these days.
Front row seats.
Love seats.
We pull up a seat in Nature’s theater.

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Have a favorite view with front row seats? I’d love to see it! Scroll down to share a link!

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