FICLET: The Chair

Just something that demanded to be written.

Ficlet; The Chair

Without thought, I dumped the cleaned sheets on the chair. Slowly it empties as I make the bed up. Once it’s empty, I straighten it up and make sure it’s tucked in the corner. There’s only two times that straight backed chair is full. When we wash the bedding and when HE sits in it and pulls me across his lap.

It’s an old chair. One he brought into our relationship at the beginning. I think it was his grandma’s. It’s a source of comfort to me. Though my bum may burn when we use it, by the time we are done, my soul is calm.

Early in our relationship, I worried that people would know why that old chair sat in the corner. I had no doubt that they knew what it was used for. I don’t worry about that anymore. I don’t think too much about that chair. When I do, I’m at peace with it. With who we are. How we live. It’s now a symbol of strength. Solid wood. Sturdy enough to hold us both. Always there. Quietly waiting.

I shake my head and laugh. This is what happens when you work from home. You catch up on household chores and think about silly things. Things like The Chair.

End