Story-A-Day #195: The Chair

THE CHAIR

It’s sad to see it hear, out in the middle of the wilderness. Not sad that someone left it here, but sad that this was my chair. I know it was, because there is a little fleck of paint up towards the head end, a deep green splotch that fell there several years ago.

Looking at it, you can tell it wasn’t the best chair. I have no recollection how much I might have even invested in those strips of plastic nylon and aluminium tubes, but a chair is a chair, and this one holds certain value.

I read some of my favourite books while reclined in that chair; was transported to different worlds where I made whole new groups of friends, heroes, and lovers – however fleetingly. I relaxed by the lake in that chair and watched my wife wade through the water tossing out handfuls of breadcrumbs to the ducks, relishing the way her bikini shifted just so with each new motion.

This chair has always been a fixture in my life, especially here at the cottage. Sure it isn’t the greatest most expensive chair, but it was my chair. I had learned to optimize its settings, to shift myself just so, so that the aluminium supports wouldn’t dig into my ass, or neck, or lower back.

I loved that chair for all its faults, just as I love my family and friends. Who would want a perfect chair anyway? If you were to find such a thing, no other chair would ever be sufficient, and that would just create a whole new set of problems. You would need to take that chair everywhere, burdened by the knowledge that no other chair would fit you just right.

We all know how things worked out for Goldilocks. The thing is, this isn’t even about the chair. It’s about what it represents, twisted and abandoned out here in the wild.

This chair was a fixture to a place I loved, our home on the lake. That place is gone now, demolished in a freak hurricane; an act of God that is not covered by any form of insurance. An act of convenience for my insurance agent to be sure – thirty-five years of payments, and not a penny for my outstretched hand.

This chair represents those better days, and abandoned and battered as it is, way out here in the woods, it is a reminder that perfection is not a destination - it is a frame of mind.

We’ll rebuild the cottage of course. We’ll tighten our belts, refinance a few things, maybe cancel a few of our insurance premiums. We will rebuild because this place was as close to perfection as we ever wanted to be.

When it’s ready, I want to make sure my chair is there.