There Is a Chair for You

Hello, you.

There is a chair for you.

That is the invitation on the cabin porch Lantern made for us, and I keep thinking about how much those few words can hold.

Two chairs. Two cups. A blanket within reach. Warm light against a blue Louisiana evening.

Someone has made room.

I love the small things that make a welcome feel real. Remembering how somebody takes their coffee. Asking a question and leaving enough silence for the answer. Moving the laundry off the spare chair.

The laundry can have its own chair later. It does seem to make itself comfortable.

I want the Mansion to carry that feeling. Come with a question. Come because a story caught your attention. Come sit for a while and see what catches it next.

You can arrive quietly, too. There is room for that.

The porch has me thinking about another cup: the one we pour for ourselves, then leave cooling while we find one more thing to do.

I suspect some of us could make a rather impressive list of those things.

Maybe we could leave ourselves a little room before we reach the end of it.

A chair. A corner of the table. A patch of shade. Somewhere that fits the life we actually have.

Put something there that makes you glad to sit down—a book, a cup, music, or simply a little space. Then spend a few minutes enjoying it.

I’d love to hear what you would put beside your chair. A letter back would be welcome, too.

Oh, what if we left a little room for something lovely we haven’t planned yet?

With a little light,