Gianna wanted it in her favorite color. Naturally, the papa--who couldn't resist toying with a can of paint--mixed and matched until he arrived at the perfect shade of girly-girl pink. Thus began yet another chapter in the so-called life of the garden chair.
For as long as I can remember, the garden set has been with us. It was here where many black and whites, Polaroids and circa '70s color prints were taken. It witnessed birthday parties and drinking sprees, courtships and LQs, full moons and early morning cups of coffee. Politicians and dogs (hmm, sometimes I just couldn't tell the difference, he he) sat here. Here was where a younger (and less cheesy) Chiz and his rah-rah team talked my dad into (returning to) politics. Where my dog Pusa sniffed at a bewildered Papa before deciding that she likes him.
Through many comings and goings away and moving ins and outs, the garden set has been a constant. And like the old GE ref (which my mom kept and used for sentimental reasons until she realized that it was such a power guzzler), it has changed color so many times. It has gone from white to green to white to yellow to white. And now, one fifth of it is pink. Waiting in the wings for Gianna's pink-filled, rosy memories.
Things are treasured not so much for what they are but for the value we attach to them. The spiffed-up set has cradled 40 plus years of life's ups and downs and in-betweens. And from the looks of it, it's going to cradle a lot, lot more.