There's this old little table at my mom's house. It's a bentwood cane end table that's pretty unassuming, and its home is tucked away in a forgotten place on the way to the basement. Nevertheless, every time I'm over there, I find myself looking at it: do I love it? Do I hate it?
It had been a while since seeing the little table when I was there yesterday. And passing by it, it took me by surprise. I realized that it is love indeed. I have no idea where the table came from - not sure she knows, either. We've never even talked about or even acknowledged the thing.
But I've realized now that I love it and can't stop thinking about it. What do you think - should I try to negotiate a little transaction over at Mom's Antique Shop?
In the meantime, a quick search around the web led me to a table similar to my mom's that's been made over in a fabulous jolt of yellow:
Have you ever had such a late realization about a piece of furniture? Maybe something taken for granted that you one day recognize as beautiful in a quiet way?