My Chair

My chair stands insecurely on the ground, but evenly on my shoulders. It is discolored and worn due to elements attacking it everyday for 16 years. Though my chair only has three legs, that is all it needs; one for my mom, one for my sister, and one for me. The fourth leg fell off long ago maybe about seven or eight years ago. Some how through the years, that open cut where the chair leg use to lay, closed up. It healed with in time like most things do. I carried this chair through out my school days. One day through out each year was when my chair seemed the most heaviest and frail. Every father’s day it would wobble and tip, but like every other day, I kept a hold of it. As the days went by so did the years. It collected scratched and nicks for all those times I had been hurt throughout my life. With every new feeling came a new mark. As I got smarter, I got stronger. Each day I am able to hold my chair up higher, now knowing that it is no longer a burden, but a part of me. We have endured most challenging experiences, include the time I got lost in the museum, but then again how can somebody get lost if they have this big chair they are carrying. As spring turned to summer and fall turned to winter a new art of my chair was added. That empty space for a leg now held a short rod. Hopefully in time that rod can grow and become a part of my chair, even though it isn’t an actual leg. To any other person this chair would seem like garbage. A useless piece of wood destined for men in black boots and gloves to pick up. Still, it is my chair, and I will carry it anywhere.