Shpoop

If these walls could speak, they could shower you with stories forever.
Stories of how a struggling man looked forward to crashing into his favorite chair after a hard days work, aching muscles being unwound by its tender touch. The one constant in the world...never rejecting him, never questioning him, only giving what it had to give.
Stories of how he cradled his newborn there. Even long after the baby had been quieted and was sleeping soundly, he would cradle. Perhaps it wasn't the baby that was being soothed at all.
Stories of how he would sit there with his child on his lap and read to him. Read to him about stars, about legends, about Green Eggs and Ham. The sturdy springs were always delighted to bear the extra burden.
Stories of how he would hold his son up in the air and spin him around, flinging him onto its reliabe softening embrace. "Again! Again!" the son would shout. "Again! Again!" the chair would hope.
Stories of how a frustrated adolescent would come there when nothing else was going right in the world. Teachers scolded him, girls ignored him, friends ridiculed him. But here was the one constant in the world...never rejecting him, never questioning him, only giving what it had to give.
Stories of how one day, without any warning, the chair was taken away, only to be replaced by a newer, brighter, less worn substitute. The chair that had been part of home, that was home, was gone forever.

If this chair could speak, it would have no stories to tell. A strange lump rising in its throat would prevent any talking at all.

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this thread is awesome...i'm not a writer at all but had to join in! Bryndian, yours is absolutey incredible!