The Velvet Chair

The chair spoke to me. It was nothing special, grand or new. It sat quietly at the back of the shop, out of place beside the newer, functional pieces around it. It did not scream out at me, “Pick me!  I’m what you need!”  But something about it drew me closer, to tentatively stroke the velvet seat and watch it gently rock. Softly, I heard its voice, “You know me.”

Like a key unlocking a memory from deep within, I saw myself as a young girl on holiday with my family at a guest farm, excitedly running into the Kid’s Barn filled with dusty books, ping pong table, piano, games and …chairs just like this one!  I’d snuggle into its velvetness,  rocking gently as I escaped into a book,  dust motes dancing in a shaft of subtle sunshine at my feet, before racing out to ride a horse or have tea on the verandah with my family as we soaked in the countryside. It was always an escape.- a place where time stood still.

Nostalgia oozed over me. I sat. I leaned back into its velvetness. Springs bounced under me as I stroked its smooth wooden arms. I closed my eyes and smiled contentedly as I gently rocked  “Yes, I know you well,” I whispered.

1 Comment

  1. Ooh, your reunion with that well-loved, cozy chair sounds delightful!

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