The Chair

This chair belonged to my grandma.

When I was a baby my grandma and grandpa held me on it.

Later my uncle drew a portrait of me while I sat in it.

When I was older it went from our house and then eventually to my mom's new house.

I sat in that chair contemplating, deducing, and deciding many decisions.

When I got on my own I took it to college. I'm sure we spilled beer on it.

My husband wrote his thesis on it.

My cat has taken naps on it.

Once, after my grandma passed away, we found objects unexplainably strewn upon it in the middle of the night.

The chair has traveled far and while its old, torn, and parts of it rusted, I still love the chair.

We just got a new chair. It's time to say goodbye. I will take a cushion and remove the fabric. I will use it to make something and then I will keep it forever.

Attachment to objects is elusive. Those who say it is materialistic are not thinking of the objects that have no dollar value, but rather a deeper connection to the past.