Most days, I don’t think about it. I just plop down in whatever chair is closest, just sit down and resign myself to whatever level of comfort a chair gives me.
When quietly left to my own devices though, I am extremely picky about sitting spaces. I use one of the cushions provided at church, against the hard pews, even though I know they’re meant for elderly folks, hoping nobody else notices. If I don’t, there’s an uncomfortable gap between my back and the pew.
It’s been this way since I was 13 years old, when the curvature of my back was so bad that my spine was going to crush my heart. As a result, my spine is fused from my shoulder blades all the way down, fused to my hip bones. There is no give, no molding myself to the fit of a chair. I have feeling in the muscles in my back but my back behaves as though it is solid bone, because at this point it is just that. And there is certainly no forgiving chairs that don’t have lumbar support.
Which brings me to the chair in the photo above. It’s new to us, but not new to my family. It originally belonged to my grandmother’s first cousin Minnie, I would guess over a hundred years ago now. Yesterday, it found a spot in our family room.
This chair is Heaven-sent for me. Hands down, it is wonderful. It has become “Mom’s chair,” for sure, for when we are all crowded around the TV. Or like right now, when I am by myself at home and just sitting, with my laptop in my lap. To now, I’ve made do with the recliners in the room, or with a cushion behind me on the couch. This chair needs nothing. It is perfect as it is.
So grateful to my Mama, who gave it to us yesterday. I wanted the chair based on how pretty it is. But it will never leave our house in my lifetime based on how comfortable it is.