In the first house my family owned, we had a La-Z-Boy recliner upholstered in a bumpy gold and orange fabric: vintage and, I always thought as a teen, hideous. It was a comfortable fixture in the living room throughout several moves, and we ended up wearing it out after decades of loving use. I hadn't thought of it in years.
Recently, I vacationed out of state. Upon entering the kitschy cabin, there was an exact duplicate of my childhood chair prominently placed in the middle of the room. Memories flooded back, and, though my friends ribbed me, I took several pictures of that old chair, cozying up in is afterwards and sharing the photos with my mom later.
Amazing how a piece of furniture could trigger such a flood of stories of family and laughter.