There is a chair in our house that holds a very special place in my heart. It is the yellow velvet swivel armed rocker. We got the chair before we ever had our first child. In the early 1990’s my grandfather had several pieces of furniture he was giving away when he was updating some rooms in his home. I swooped in and got two single beds with thin, stiff, bright yellow coverlets and this matching sunny chair. It was in top condition at the time, not a smudge or sign of wear. It would have been quite expensive at a store as it was a high end swiveling rocker with yellow velvet covered buttons and a skirt.

The yellow chair has lived many years with us, moved into seven different houses, coast to coast, north to south, and even to Texas. The yellow chair started in a guest room and then found it’s way into each child’s nursery. Our firstborn had a room decorated with light blue baby lamb wallpaper with an accent of little yellow bows on the lambs. This tied the yellow chair perfectly into the decorating scheme. I remember many mornings, afternoons, evenings, and middle-of-the-nights sitting in the chair, nursing, burping, and rocking our son to sleep. I can sit in it now, feeling the smooth velvet, rock a little, close my eyes, and be right back in Southern California soothing my tired three month old son. His head turned sideways near my shoulder our chests pressed close, heart to heart, singing, “I see the moon, the moon sees me, the moon sees the one that I long to see, so God Bless the moon and God Bless me, and God Bless the one that I long to see.”

Today the yellow chair shows signs of age and experience. There are two covered buttons missing. The velvet has rubbed thin in several spots. The right arm has a tear and loose threads. Different small stains can be found around the skirt. The yellow is not as bright as it once was, revealing a weathered darker shade in the corners. If I happened upon the chair in this condition at a second-hand store, I would pass on it, because it would have been someone else’s living that was soiled onto it. But here in our house, I do not see a dingy yellow chair that needs to be reupholstering. Instead, I see the my motherly spot where each of my four babies were snuggled from birth until toddlers. I see the fancy yellow swivel chair that came from my grandfather’s elegantly decorated guest room. More often than not, I see Kitty curled up in a ball nesting in the cushion of this special chair. Cats are very perceptive, I believe Kitty can sense the love and comfort that has surrounded the yellow chair. She could sit in any soft spot in the house, and she chooses this yellow chair.

Many articles of clothing and pieces of furniture from when our kids were babies were stored up in the attic or given away long ago. As life progresses we move on, buy larger size clothes, bigger beds, change from lamb wallpaper to football posters. The small trinkets like the Peter Rabbit music box I played during diaper changes or the nesting boxes sit high on my book shelf. When they happen to catch my eye they are little sweet reminders of my early days of motherhood. But a day does not go by that I do not pass through the room with the yellow velvet chair, sit in it to fold laundry, or pet Kitty on my lap. I am grateful for the twenty-five years the yellow chair has given us, and I have no intention on letting it go anytime soon (or reupholstering it).