It was a rare occasion someone else sat in his chair and whenever they did
it appeared as though they were wearing an oversize sports-coat.
It wasn't too many years back when his chair would go for days without even catching a glimpse of the old man; summertime weather kept him surrounded by fresh air, adventures on the lake, bar-b-q's and neighbors. Life was taking place all around him and within him. There was no time for things like television or news broadcasts, not for him, not in summer.
He hadn't noticed the almost imperceptible changes in his chair over the years, but they were there. It would creak and groan just a little more each year as the weight of the man pushed it's springs to their limit and it had a slight tendency to want to hold onto him once he was settled in, making it just a little more difficult for the man to once again get up - near impossible in winter.
Over time the warmth, comfort and familiar sounds of the chair seemed a part of the old man himself. They became best friends, inseparable throughout the long winter months, drifting off to sleep in the flicker of the big screen advertising that was now falling on deaf ears.
Of course, by the time I saw the chair it was spring and it was airing itself in a driveway, the sun highlighting the worn threads along it's arms, the seat cushion resembling more a tractor seat than an easy chair. The years had taken it's youth and faded it's complexion.
The estate agent didn't even try to talk it up. To her, there was no history, no relationship, no bad Reader's Digest jokes or humorous antidote about the popcorn stains. No, to her it was simply an old chair. Value: $20.00
Z. Corwin
It wasn't too many years back when his chair would go for days without even catching a glimpse of the old man; summertime weather kept him surrounded by fresh air, adventures on the lake, bar-b-q's and neighbors. Life was taking place all around him and within him. There was no time for things like television or news broadcasts, not for him, not in summer.
He hadn't noticed the almost imperceptible changes in his chair over the years, but they were there. It would creak and groan just a little more each year as the weight of the man pushed it's springs to their limit and it had a slight tendency to want to hold onto him once he was settled in, making it just a little more difficult for the man to once again get up - near impossible in winter.
Over time the warmth, comfort and familiar sounds of the chair seemed a part of the old man himself. They became best friends, inseparable throughout the long winter months, drifting off to sleep in the flicker of the big screen advertising that was now falling on deaf ears.
Of course, by the time I saw the chair it was spring and it was airing itself in a driveway, the sun highlighting the worn threads along it's arms, the seat cushion resembling more a tractor seat than an easy chair. The years had taken it's youth and faded it's complexion.
The estate agent didn't even try to talk it up. To her, there was no history, no relationship, no bad Reader's Digest jokes or humorous antidote about the popcorn stains. No, to her it was simply an old chair. Value: $20.00
Z. Corwin
1 comment:
So Sad - but true! Nicely Put!
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