A Chair

 It's a chair, just a chair. It wasn't mine originally. It was given to me. When I got it, it was old and needed to be repaired. I took it apart , re-glued the joints, and put a new coat of varnish on it.




I wonder what this chair has been through and what it has seen, felt and heard. The owner of the chair, before me, lost his wife to cancer, and had a daughter. There were tears and laughter, shouts and yes, maybe even anger.

Short people, tall people, heavyweights and lightweights, all sat in this chair. Some even abused it by leaning back in and straining it's joints to the limit.

Everything and everyone, has a story. Behind the scars and bite marks from teething babies, to the lined face and wrinkled hands of a dads and moms, lies the truth of life, the good and the bad.

Yeah, it's a chair, but there's much more. Can you see it? It's there.