The furniture draws me in, and before I am aware, my curiosity takes the lead, and I begin questioning the host about origin stories. I cannot help it. I need to know, and I find that that owner is often eager to share.
Last Thanksgiving, I found myself seeking out the story behind a familiar antique buffet table that resides in my mother-in-law’s, Lainey, dining room.
Here is what she shared about this sentimental piece:
The event is just a couple of hours away and promises live music, booths full of vintage goods, and food trucks. I excitedly mark my calendar and await my trip back home.
I kick all the blankets to the end of the bed and focus on breathing deeply. My pulse begins to slow and my eyes start to feel heavy. Victory is near.
This is the exact moment that a small arm lands hard across my chest and reminds me that I am not alone. My daughter stealthily climbed into bed over an hour ago, discovered no barriers between her and sleep, and is now fully sprawled across my bed.
I gently lift her arm off my shoulder when I spot the friendship bracelet, her “pretty”, handing off her delicate wrist and I remember back to when she first displayed her treasure just two weeks ago.