My School Chair
I remember our first encounter when you greeted me at school. “This is going to be your seat”, my teacher said, and from that point on you carried me through the years. I knew nothing about you. Nor then, or now. But, you were my first place in life, a place reserved for me.
I remember your seat as warm, and your frame as cold, a combination that created numerous sensations as I sat distracted in class. We established several relationships. Standing on top of you, I was taller, gazing over my classmates, hiding behind you, I felt protected from the older kids and balancing on your two back legs, I was thrilled by the risk of falling over, and elevated by the control of not doing so.
These early experiences have left their marks, which I sense, as I see you here. What a life you must have had with hundreds of companionships formed. You must have carried more kids than I can imagine. They all left their marks on you I see. Karen, Søren, Sofie and Peter are all scratched in the wood underneath your seat. Many destinies, which you carry with you. And, perhaps you made your mark on them, as you did with me. Now you trigger a memory when your hiding place is discovered. Have you become an artefact of a generation?
Author: Elias Melvin Christensen
Photo: Elias Melvin Christensen