Headwaters Wordsmithing

Writing for the actor, singer, and reader.

Birthed in the Northwoods of Wisconsin,  Headwaters Wordsmithing creates screenplays, lyrics, and books with an emphasis on faith in God...and a minor emphasis on coffee.  Make yourself at home.

The End of an Era...

Well.  It finally happened. And, yeah, it was a shock.

The Chair.  It's gone.

I grabbed the little side table, (made by TechnoBoy in wood arts class...we used to call it "shop class"), set it next toThe Chair and filled its surface with the Elixir of Knowledge and enough munchies to get halfway through a Saturday Big 10 football game.

I assumed the position and initiated the re-entry sequence I had done so many times before.  Falling back into The Chair, I did the reflexive bounce'n'scoot.

And that's when it happened.

CRACK!

My world immediately listed to port as I did a slight barrel-roll onto the chair arm, my belly button only inches from a intensely thermal baptism by Elixir.  Not to mention crushing the chips.

AHHHH...  My hip!  It finally gave out.  I'll need titanium sockets and...

Huh.

I'd thought it hurt more than this.

Huh.

It doesn't hurt at all.  I rolled back to check some favorite parts while dusting potato chip crumbs off my shirt..

Then I heard the groaning creak of wood and the silent cry of tortured olefin.

The Chair!

Not thee, dear repository of my mass...not THEE!

On my 3rd attempt,  I finally fought my way out and up.   Looking down on the wrecked recliner, I felt like an FAA investigator at a crash sight.

Well.

This sucks.

The next day at noon found me sitting in A chair.  Not THE Chair.  I pulled a dining table chair 5 feet towards the TV which made it a living room chair.  I put it next to TechnoBoy's side table and settled in to watch the Packers game.

Hm.

Well.

This sucks.

Dragging a dining room chair 5 feet doesn't make it The Chair anymore than pulling leftover turkey and mashed potatoes out of the refrigerator makes it The Thanksgiving Meal.

Yeah.

Monday morning before going to work, TechnoBoy and I, with minimal pomp and ceremony, toted The Chair out to the minivan, turned it upside-down, and rammed it over the back seat before slamming the tailgate.  The Wife and TechnoBoy got into the minivan and drove off to the dump.

I stood in the front yard, watching them drive away.  What would qualify as The Chair's rear-end filled the back window, giving me a final, light-hearted moment as it mooned me.

Then it was gone.

I felt like young Travis when he had to put down Old Yeller at the end of the movie.  And upon objective reflection, I guess I shouldn't have stood in the front yard crying, pretending to hold a rifle, then shouting a loud "BANG!".

It kinda freaked out the neighbors passing by on their morning commutes.  But they're kinda weird, anyhow.

Stuff like this happens.  It's called life.

Things break.  Things change.

People change.  And people leave.  Whether they want to or not.

Huh.

I wander inside, not yet ready to go to work.  I go to the place where The Chair used to park.  I plop down into the dining room/living room chair and reach for the steaming Elixir next to me.

Yeah.  That's true.

Life breaks promises and changes things.  Except for Him.  He never breaks a promise.

And He promised He'd never leave.

Now that's a promise I can stand on.  Or sit on, as the case may be.

 

All content copyrighted by Dennis R. Doud. Website designed by Isaac Doud.