Wednesday, October 19, 2022

A Chair

There’s this chair… actually it’s a recliner and it’s been with me since 1997. It’s old, a bit worn, and it’s best days have long since past. However, I’m not sure if I can let it go. 

There’s a new chair awaiting its turn to replace it. “In with the new out with the old” is not something that is easy for me. Items often hold a sentimental feeling for me that’s strong. It’s known that those on the autism spectrum may have, as the DSM says, “an inappropriate attachment to objects” but I argue that language because it makes perfect sense. 

I remember the day I got that chair. Okay, so it wasn’t supposed to be mine exclusively, but it’s the most comfortable recliner in the world. I got it three residences ago and it’s made every move since. Twenty-five years is an eternity in recliner years (is that a thing?) and it is, I think, the only thing I use on a daily basis that was with me before my diagnosis. 

You see, that’s the thing; it bridges every era of my life together. It was there in the before, the middle, the present, but now I’m not so sure about the future. The back of the recliner is so old the back cover is coming off exposing nails. I know it’s time, but how can I just let go?

I never understood the scenes on Frasier where Martin refused to let that old chair go. It was the plot line in several episodes, as Frasier tried his best to get it to its new home of the junkyard, but now I do. When you’ve had such highs, lows, and the mundane experienced in the same chair it isn’t just a chair, it’s a conduit for years, I mean a couple decades of life and as I sit and stare at it now, I can’t imagine it not here even though I know, for the safety of skin and cat, it should best make its way out of here so a new, fresh recliner can take its place and create a new life of memories. That’s much easier said than done. 

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