The Chair by the Corner Closet
by RC DeWinter
Title
The Chair by the Corner Closet
Artist
RC DeWinter
Medium
Digital Art - Digital Oils-paintography
Description
Copyright 2015 RC deWinter ~ All Rights Reserved
About Aunt Boo
The old chintz chair still sits by the corner closet in the parlor.
I remember when Aunt Boo - christened Matilda but we came
to call her Boo - but wait, I'm getting ahead of myself.
Anyway, I remember when Aunt Boo came to live with us,
bringing mostly small personal possessions but also the chintz chair.
She was actually my father's aunt, but Great-Aunt was cumbersome;
we were allowed to call her Aunt Mae, as did our parents
and everyone else in our extended family.
She was the unbereaved widow of a sea captain, was Aunt Boo.
Uncle Eli - loud, hearty and profane - was lost at sea,
still sailing at the advanced age of seventy-three.
His ship foundered in a freak storm somewhere down around Jamaica.
He and Aunt Boo had never been blessed with children.
Uncle Eli collected oddments from his voyages around the world;
Aunt Boo kept cats.
Aunt Boo lived in blessed quiet -
except for the yowling of her five ancient felines -
for several years after Uncle Eli took up residence in Davy Jones's locker,
but at his well-attended memorial service I heard her tell my father,
"Fred, when my last cat is gone, I'm coming to live with you and Edith.
I'll pay my way and stay out of the kitchen,
but you are my godchild and I know you won't leave me to molder on my own
in that great barn full of Eli's trash."
Trash - that was how Aunt Boo collectively dismissed
the treasures Uncle Eli brought back from the many ports he'd visited
in his long career at sea.
Shells and pottery, stuffed, glass-eyed exotica never seen wandering
in the prosaic green valleys of New Hampshire,
carved totems and silks from Shanghai.
All of this was carted off by a dealer in the unusual
for a pretty sum that, along with the sale of the Edwardian monstrosity
Uncle Eli and Aunt Boo had shared when he wasn't voyaging,
left Aunt Boo what was then genteelly called "well-fixed."
She moved in on a sweltering July Saturday.
My father had borrowed Jim Baker's truck,
expecting to have to haul all kinds of what-not,
but as I've said, Aunt Boo brought very little with her -
a few books, a couple of trunks of clothes, a wicker hamper
full of old daguerreotypes and other small mementos -
and the chintz chair.
Our mother, who had been quailing
at the thought of how to fit what Aunt Boo might bring
into our modest farmhouse, was relieved when they finally arrived.
She'd fixed up the spare room and with the exception of the chair,
everything Aunt Boo brought fitted in nicely.
"I've always liked that spot by the window in the parlor,"
Aunt Boo announced.
"You won't mind, will you, Edith dear, if my chair lives there?"
Mother was happy to oblige this modest request,
even though it meant the catch-all closet in the corner
would be pretty much blocked by the wide, deep chair,
necessitating it being moved in order to take anything in or out.
Aunt Boo was quiet; she never interfered with Mother's household routine.
The most she would do was sometimes ask for meals she particularly enjoyed -
boiled ham and cabbage (that made us children gag) or a joint of rare roast beef
accompanied by mashed potatoes, her entire plate drowned in brown gravy.
She contributed lavishly to the larder and made herself useful in small ways -
mending, dusting and pottering around outside in the garden.
The only remarkable thing Aunt Boo did
was to frighten the wits out of us
by appearing silently and unexpectedly
in the dark, narrow upstairs hallway, shouting "Boo!"
at the luckless child meandering his or her way
down to the bathroom after bedtime.
The first time she did this, little Bill, who was only four,
screamed and burst into tears
causing both Dad and Mother to rush out of their bedroom in a panic,
fearful that he'd fallen down the stairwell.
"I'm sorry, Edith, but children should be taught
not to wander around outside of their bedrooms in the dead of night,"
declared Aunt Boo.
"You never know what might be waiting to snatch them."
Where Aunt Boo had gotten the extraordinary idea
that there would be any danger in one's own home - day or night -
in our quiet town, back in the day when no one even bothered to lock a door,
was a complete mystery, but she was adamant
that no child should be allowed out of his or her bedroom until sunup.
Dad tried to break Aunt Boo of this spectacularly unusual habit
but was completely unsuccessful;
the result was that we learned, eventually,
to keep a chamber pot under our beds in case of necessity,
and began calling Aunt Mae "Aunt Boo."
She didn't seem to mind, and pretty soon
she was being introduced as Boo instead of Mae.
For some reason Aunt Boo seemed particularly attached to me,
and would often say when she "went to meet Eli"
she was leaving me everything she couldn't take with her.
"Youll never have to worry," she'd say. "You'll be well-fixed.
But promise me, child, that you'll always keep the chair.
When I come back to check on you I want a comfortable place to sit."
And of course I always promised.
The way things fell out, it seems like Aunt Boo knew even then
that neither Jack nor Bill would keep the old homestead -
Jack, serving with the IX Troop Carrier Command, was killed at Arnhem,
and Bill moved out west - but that I would end up living here by myself.
Oh, I had a couple of romances,
but somehow I always found myself happiest
when I was alone in the farmhouse,
and came to realize when I was there I never really felt alone.
It's always been crowded with happy memories,
and I've never regretted my choice to keep it that way.
I sold off some of the land, but I keep a garden
for flowers and fruits and vegetables,
and when I retired from keeping the books at a small law office
I began volunteering at the library
and still serve on the Episcopal church vestry.
I'm still waiting, though, for Aunt Boo to visit.
If I should have to get up during the night
I'm always alert for a sudden "Boo!"
but that hasn't happened yet.
Sometimes, if I'm particularly wakeful,
I walk to the first landing and peek down the stairs into the parlor
just to see if Aunt Boo is sitting in the chintz chair.
To date she hasn't made an appearance,
but I keep it exactly where it always was when she was still with us -
just in case.
~copyright 2015 RC deWinter
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Thanks to the group hosts for their encouragement and support.
parlor, living room, chair, vintage, closet, cozy, warm, rug, furnishings, decor, table, lamplight, evening, still life, old-fashioned, impressionist, impressionism, RC deWinter, deWinter, wall art, home decor, cards, totes, clothing, linens, pillows, throw pillows, towels, phone cases, greeting cards
Uploaded
August 9th, 2015
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Viewed 927 Times - Last Visitor from New York, NY on 04/17/2024 at 5:54 AM
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Comments (14)
Bunny Clarke
Gorgeous painting. I remember when these were all the rage. I really love your delightful story. It tells of a different way of living and loving than most families have now. Thank you for the wonderful treat today. :o)
Claire Bull
So glad you kept the chair, I love LOVE Aunt Boo and I bet she is reading and sitting right there with you... she knew you would take care of her. I absolutely LOVE this chair. And I feel like I might be "Aunt Boo" in real life. I can relate to everything you said. She is me and I am she... so happy you kept the chair. and she would love that you are painting it up digitally to share ;) Faved instantly. and forever. (don't ever get rid of that chair)
RC DeWinter replied:
*Smile* Claire, I am thrilled that you so identify with a character entirely made up out of whole cloth. The chair is real, however, and lives in my cousin's parlor in Willimastown, Massachusetts. TY
Louise Hill
Love the story behind the chair! Wonderful work. f/l
RC DeWinter replied:
Thanks Louise, will it break your heart if I tell you it's fiction? I DID have an Aunt Mae though!
Jim Williams
Thank you for submitting this story to TELL TALL TALES group. It has been featured. l, f, TTT
John Bailey
Congratulations on being featured in the Fine Art America Group "Images That Excite You!"
Uma Krishnamoorthy
Wonderfully warm and cozy image. As always, I love reading your stories and poems that accompany the image. Great story telling!
Betsy Zimmerli
Peaceful interior scene, RC. The chair is inviting, and the colors and soft focus add to the tranquility. f/l
Jean OKeeffe Macro Abundance Art
Congratulations for the feature of your work on the homepage of Greeting Cards For All Occasions 08-09-15!