The Upholsterer

I stepped back in time.
I found his shop when I was searching for upholsterers.
It was a little storefront in a town not far away from my house.
I wish I had found this shop first.

I had a rocking chair that needed to be reupholstered.
I wanted to find someone in my favorite place of Amish buggies.
I found someone that was a little less than an hour from my home.
After talking to him on the phone, I decided that I would bring my rocker to him.

It was a beautiful drive.
As I neared his home, which was also his shop, the GPS told me to stop quite abruptly.
I missed the driveway but was able to park in a parking lot nearby.
I saw no entrance; I was wondering if I should just drive away.

I had his number, so I called him on my cellphone.
He told me to stay put and he would come out to meet me.
He did.
Something told me not to leave my rocking chair, but I did not listen.

After complaining about politics, the weather, his neighbors, and the church, he took my chair.
I did not see his shop.
I only knew that the business has been in his family for 65 years.
This man seemed less than enthusiastic about doing the work for me.

I never heard from him.
I called him on the day he thought my chair might be finished.
Oh, I never got the foam yet to make your cushions, he said without any apology.
It’s really expensive to ship just a little bit of foam so I’m waiting until I have another job.

Call me in ten days, he said.
My “something is not right antenna” was picking up signals.
I had already bought the fabric so all he had to do was order the foam and begin.
I called him ten days later.

I need ten more days, he said, I have three jobs that need foam so I can order it now.
I can pick up the foam but its a forty-five minute drive that I don’t want to make, he admitted.
I told my husband that I wanted to pick up my chair.
He told me to give him the ten days he asked for when we last talked.

The man lost his wife eight years before.
I wondered if his lack of enthusiasm was related to his loss.
I called him back after ten days.
I never got the foam yet, he said without a hint of apology.

I will be coming to get my rocking chair tomorrow at lunch time, I told him.
I really wanted to give you the work but you keep delaying things and putting me off.
This is unacceptable, I said firmly.
Please have my chair ready for me tomorrow, along with the fabric I purchased.

I drove the long drive yet again to pick up a chair that had been in his possession for one month.
Before I left, I searched for upholsterers near my home.
I found one in the little town where my children went to school.
I called the shop before I set out to retrieve my rocking chair.

The phone was picked up immediately.
A man with a beautiful accent answered.
I told him my situation and asked him if I could stop at his shop op my way home.
The rocking chair will be in my car so I can just drop it off to you, I explained.

Of course, he said, I will be here; I will take the chair out of the car for you.
I went to the first upholsterer, calling him when I was thirty minutes away.
He was outside waiting for me with my rocking chair; the fabric was in a plastic bag.
Without a word, an apology, or an explanation, he put the chair in the back of my minivan.

I drove off with my rocking chair one month later, with no work to show for my wait.
I drove to the upholsterer’s shop that was near my home.
I walked inside and stepped back in time.
I walked on hardwood floors that were uneven in some places and creaking in other places.

A kind man in an apron greeted me with a strong handshake.
His accent was like music to my ears.
I called you this morning…I began.
About your rocking chair. Let me get it for you, he said following me out the door.

I opened the back of the minivan.
He lifted the chair as if it was a feather.
He carried it down the street from where I parallel parked.
He brought the chair into his store.

I looked around and saw furniture in progress along with finished pieces.
I was in the shop of a true craftsman.
Fabric books, that were worn with use, were on old shelves in the wall.
There was no computer, there was nothing high tech in his shop at all.

He told me the reasonable cost of upholstering my chair.
There was no receipt, there was only a handshake.
There was the promise of finishing the rocker in two weeks time.
I left my rocking chair in confidence.

Five days after I left my rocking chair, the man called to tell me my chair was finished.
I went that afternoon to pick it up.
I walked down the street where I had parallel parked before.
I walked on the uneven hardwood floors that were creaking in places.

There across the room, I saw my rocking chair more beautiful than I could have imagined.
This rocking chair is quite large; it belonged to my aunt.
It has springs under the seat, which he tightened and covered with burlap to protect my cushion.
He made new, plump cushions for my rocker; he adjusted the back cushion in pride.

Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might. (Ecclesiastes 9:10)

Sit on it, he said motioning me to it down.
I sat down and could easily have stayed there all afternoon.
The agreed upon price was the price I paid.
No receipt, no paperwork; just a handshake and a promise.

We talked for almost an hour before I left his shop.
He was born in Chile and was one of fourteen children.
He was the only one of his family to leave and come to America.
Even though it has been a good life for him and his wife and four children, he would go back.

We talked about the fast pace of life here.
We talked about work ethic.
We talked about what we give up when we rely so heavily on technology.
We talked about contentment.

If only people could learn to get along, he mused.
If only people could learn to respect each other.
We are all humans; we all live here on this earth; we need each other.
When will people realize how much we need each other?

When indeed?
I came in to get my rocking chair but got so much more.
I stepped back in time to a place where respect, dignity, and hard work were practiced.
The upholsterer, the philosopher, the wise man from Chile, finished my chair in five days.