SHABBY CHIC

“I don’t know.” I mumbled. “I kind of like it this way.”

My husband Steven and I were standing on our back porch looking at my rocking chair. “Are you kidding me?” he asked. “The paint’s peeling off. It looks awful!”

There was a crew of painters at our house to sand and stain our porch and Steven wanted to take the opportunity to have them sand, prime and repaint my rocking chair.

“I think it’s got a shabby chic kind of vibe going.”

“No it doesn’t.” Steven was shaking his head. “If you keep it this way, it’s going to end up with wood rot.” He looked over at me raising his eyebrows. “Is that what you want?”

The painters were busy taking the furniture off the porch and placing it in the yard.

“Well, of course not!” I cried. “I’ve had this rocking chair since before we were married!”

“I know.” Steven laughed. “It came with your dowry.”

I swatted his arm and laughed. “What are you from the 1800’s?”

I looked back at my beat up rocking chair and began to get nostalgic. “This rocking chair and I have seen a lot of love over the years.” I looked over at Steven. “Every night I rocked both boys to sleep in this chair. When they weren’t feeling good this is where we sat.”

Steven nodded his head.

“Then the boys grew up and we built the porch on the Riverside house and that’s when it became an outside rocker.” I looked over at Steven again. “That’s also when it got this coat of hunter green paint. Which, by the way I painted myself.” I looked back at the rocker. “And you know how much I hate to paint. So to me it looks well loved like this.”

“See, that’s where you and I see things differently.” Steven explained. “I see it needing a coat of paint…”

“While I see it as well loved.” I interrupted.

“You didn’t let me finish.” Steven said as he held up his pointer finger. “I’m just trying to protect the wood so you don’t lose it.”

“I know.” I sighed.

Steven looked at the painters as they were finishing clearing off the porch. “Okay, it’s time to make up your mind.” Steven said. “You’re either going to let them paint it now or your going to wait a few weeks, realize I was right, that it does need to be painted, and you’ll be painting it yourself.”

“Okay, you make a good point.” I took out my phone and stepped back to snap a picture.

Steven shook his head and laughed. “Why are you taking a picture?”

I put the phone back in my pocket. “Because I always want to remember the shabby chic well loved look it once had.” I patted my pocket with the phone. “This will help.”

Steven picked up the rocker and carried it off the porch. “Most people would be thrilled to get a new coat of paint on something.” He called over his shoulder.

“I’m not like most people.” I called back.

Luckily he was too far away for me to hear his response.