The Chair

When I was little girl visiting my best friend, I always enjoyed a big, unique chair in their basement.  It was shaped like a bowl, hard to get in and out, but remarkably comfortable.  I could sit in that chair and watch television for hours.  Unfortunately, there was playing to be done, and I had to leave the chair.

In high school, I recalled that chair and it's comforming feeling.  I remember visiting that friend and watching Back to the Future in that same chair.  It wasn't until years later, as I was finishing my senior year in high school, that I vowed that I will buy a similar chair.  This chair would start my collection of furniture as I headed forth into the world.  It would be the start of something.  What that something is, I still don't know.  But it started something.

And so I bought this chair.  I learned that what I called a Bowl Chair was officially named a Papasan Chair.  And it came with a foot stool, a feature my friend's chair did not have.

My Chair is not named, beyond The Chair or My Chair.  It's a wooden frame, beige-ish colored cushion.  During the first two semesters of college, it accumulated a vast range of snack crumbs and a small rip in the seam.  There may be a print of my body on it, but I don't see it.  Usually covered in half-clean clothes and pillows, the Chair isn't getting much use now that I'm home for summer.  Beyond storage, that is.

I am sitting in it now, a few pillows at my shoulders and head.  It's comfy.  The twilit evening echoes through the open window.  My computer plays Rie Fu.  And my eyes are being burned by the brightness of the screen.  But it's peaceful.  I can easily fall asleep right now.  

Good night, random surfer.  Keep on the look-out for when I figure out how to get a story up here.  I await the day with joy.