The rhythm of a simple home
The first summer my mum and I moved into our apartments…mine on the second floor and hers on the first…we walked past a friend’s little shop and admired a blue and white striped chair in the window. Three or four times a week we would walk past and she would tell me how much she loved the chair. One day I came home from work and she told me that she had purchased it. She loved it. My sister, brother, and I would laugh because if one of us happened to be nibbling on a little something while we were sitting on it or if we happened to curl up a bit and put our feet on it, mum would give us the evil eye until we either sat up straight or stopped eating.
Since she passed away last month I have inherited the chair and it sits in my living room just above the very spot where it sat in her house.
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