I first saw it in an ancient junior high school
ready to be demolished or sold.
It sat offhanded in the corner,
caked with dust and bits of spider goo,
with lots of scratches and misuse
probably by silly, obnoxious,
and oblivious junior high kids.
Not ashamed, I asked if I could have it,
knowing that it was going to be destroyed
with the school. Approved, I carried it
to my car, placed it carefully in the back,
and headed home with my prize.
She required some scraping and sanding,
a bit of hard labor mixed with being covered
with stain to sharpen the oak characteristics.
It became my computer desk chair
through the subsequent decades,
first with my KayPro 10 and then graduated
until I bought my HP Pavilion.
Through hundreds of essays, poems,
talks, and ultimately my dissertation,
it supported me, gave me comfort.
Even my daughters found solace
in sitting on her as they practiced
Typing Tutor and Mavis Beacon,
played Operation Neptune and other games,
and even completed their own assignments.
Retirement seemed out of the question;
yet, retirement stole upon her.
Now, it's time to find a place
of comfort, and for her be of use
to someone, perhaps one of my daughters.
If chairs could write and speak,
the stories she could tell,
stories that are hers from before
we met, and hers and mine after
that will forever be
remembered in both our minds,
scratches and nicks and all.
scratches and nicks and all.
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