The Chair

The chair in the diner room is ordinary

I walk past it for breakfast every morning

With a second glace there is more

Starting at the bottom the wooden legs provide strength

With their roots deeply melted into the ground.

Supporting me through my struggles of stress and grief

Studying the wooden oak closer once more

I can see the rings of life

Where I listen to stories of anguish, happiness, or delight

On rare occasions there was advice

But there are scratches and marks

Running up and down the wood

Demonstrating the pain to support a family

Knowing someday I might have to endure

Although, the chair is still standing

Because battle scars can always heal

Then there is a sunken green cushion

Memories are woven throughout the fabric

From having tea parties at the table

Procrastinating with me on homework studies

To giving me my first cold bud beer

Teaching family moments are more valuable than a coin

The chair granted the roots of dependable in my life

Knowing you never wanted to go

But, you have laid the ground work

You are a model for me

The chair is empty at the moment

A layer of dust coats the cushion

Every morning as I past into the kitchen

My father still sits and listens