As a PhD student in English and teacher of freshman composition, I read a lot. Whether I’m enhancing my knowledge of Transatlantic Modernism, my area of specialization, or grading papers, I’m required to absorb an exorbitant amount of material. I’m fortunate to have a home office that allows me the space necessary to read, research, and write in peace. On the walls hang my degrees, some funky artwork, and a 40-year-old picture of my mother taken by an aspiring photographer.  Two bookshelves, a couch, desk, and a chair comfortably fill the room. Many years ago, my husband’s aunt, Mildred, died, and as is the case when there are deaths in the family, her worldly possessions needed to be sorted. We were offered a few items, and we took them, although arguably our most treasured of her possessions is the burnt orange chair that resides in my office. It’s an old chair – old enough for the style and color to be fashionably vintage.

The chair is extraordinarily comfortable and because of its width will support a sitter in a variety of positions. I’ve read, graded, and fallen asleep in this chair. I enjoy its history and comfort as I sort through the history and literature that define my profession. I wonder about Mildred’s life and what she thought about because our bodies have filled the same space. As I advance in the PhD program, the level of engagement deepens, and some of the critical texts are denser and more challenging. I appreciate the quiet of an office and the comfort of a chair that allow me the luxury to focus on what I enjoy.