“There is an empty chair, and part of me cannot believe, that I will never again sit there. My heart will always grieve, but I know my tears are less for you…and more for me. Your pain is gone and your soul flies free, and I know part of you is still here with me. Deep within my soul, where only I can get, there is my love for you…the place I sit.”
The back is split right down the middle. Jagged vinyl protrusions dig in, when I lean back. Worn bare arms are held on by sheer force of will…and two rolls of electrical tape.. Padding is nonexistent on the thread bare seat, with its destroyed decorative welt. Two 2×4’s have replaced the under body of the frame, a repair made over ten years ago; when it was crushed under the literal weight of a “dainty” friend’s arrogance. Down below the ancient, aging mechanism sounds like an old egg beater… in a trash compactor… falling down a metal staircase. Thus there is no question about when I have sat down. Many a mile has been traveled (literally as well as metaphorically), in increments of less than two feet, on wheels that squeak and squeal under duress that no amount of WD-40 can hope to heal. Now it has reached a point where comfort and function are nothing more than forgotten phantoms, yet I am loath to seek out a replacement.
Lil Red (that’s the wife), is not quite as loath as myself; though she does loath its presence. Describing it as an outdated, dilapidated, eyesore. Whilst basing her desire for its departure under the sincerely sweet want for my comfort and “deserving better.” She questions my loyalties to this worn-out piece of office equipment. Sorry love, but when I find something to my liking I stick with it for the duration. What if I were to look at women, in the way of personal companionship, in the same way she views my seating preference? This brings forth a whole new perspective on my perspective. As well as meriting a cold calculating dose of “the look.”
Her offers of buying me a successor, to my prestigiously preferred perch, have surfaced regularly over the past few years. For your birthday, for Christmas, Thanksgiving (cuz she sure would be thankful to see it go) … Easter maybe? Hey look a Presidents Days sale! Price is no object. So we go out and go thru the motions. Furniture stores, name brand office supply outlets, off-brand office supply outlets, gently used and recently refurbished office supply outlets and finally… nothing. It’s a hopeless quest that obviously cannot be solved, no matter the size of the price tag.
But wait… what is this? It has that classic, pre-WW2 era, secretarial look! Upon closer observation it is actually an older model version of my trusted buttock support system. Trusted buttock support system? (At this point I have gone well out of my way to accomplish the goal of not using the word “chair” in this article…damn-it! Well there went that). It’s lightly used, slightly worn and… it is brown…but that’s o.k. there is no racial diversity in furniture preference. Goodwill, five dollars, mission accomplished! Which just leaves one small detail- what to do with its predecessor?
Due to its much loved condition donation is out of the question. The landfill is out too. They have bulldozers and the thought of it running (or rather rolling) for its life thru scattered debris is the stuff of nightmare. Thank you Toy Story and Brave Little Toaster for making us aware of the depressing plight of inanimate objects at the city dump.
Perhaps an honorable Nordic send-off is the way to go? Though I am quickly informed that such a funeral pyre would produce toxic black smoke due to the materials my old friend consists of. Burial at sea? No, no I have written way to many articles about “litter amongst our waterways.” I’m not going to bury it in the backyard. Most of the neighbors already think I’m nuts after the hockey-glove, underpants incident. EBay? Listed as a sort-a, not-quite-famous writer’s seat? Following the description of it above, there’s not really much left on the positive side to say, other than- still rolls pretty good! Perhaps we could use it outside by the fire-pit? Yes and after the cushion is soaked from a good rain we could watch the mold grow and moisten our a**es when we tried to take a seat. LAWN ART! That’s it! Remove the padding, paint the metal frame a fun color and hang it from… getting that look again.
Sigh, what to do with an empty chair, when there’s no room in the room for it in there? Let’s go outside old friend and think it over. Enjoy the sun, relax a little, have a drink, kick back, take a seat? I welcome almost all questions and comments via through the Focus, or E-mail me at email@example.com. Hope to here from ya until then try and stay focused. See ya.
I welcome almost all questions and comments via FOCUS, or email me at firstname.lastname@example.org or you can FRIEND me on Facebook under Saw’s Brood!
Hope to hear from ya, until then try and stay focused. See ya!