It’s an old chair. A well-used chair. In the dining room, it seated its share of guests and heard a quota of secrets, while providing measured comfort. The chair occupied the nursery for decades, a cushy seat for the nursemaid when she wasn’t walking the floor with a colicky infant.
That was you.
After the nursery became a study, the chair had a grand refurbishing in burgundy velvet. It sat under a bright lamp, digesting scholarly papers while your father snored. Trapped in the attic, there’s a mouse nesting in its seat.
Recover it. For the baby’s room. It’s yours.
Published online in The Dribble Drabble Review, Second Issue October 2020