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 it was a shock.

The Chair.  It's gone.

I had grabbed the little side table, (made by TechnoBoy in “wood arts class” aka "shop class"), set it next to The Chair, and filled its surface with the Elixir of Knowledge and enough munchies to get halfway through the Packers game.

I stood in front of The Chair and initiated the re-entry sequence I had done so many times before.  Falling back into The Chair, I did a reflexive bounce'n'scoot.

And that's when it happened.

CRACK!

My world immediately listed to port as I did a barrel-roll onto the chair arm, stopping just inches from an intensely thermal baptism of The Elixir.  Not to mention crushing my chips.

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

Huh.

I remember thinking it should hurt more than this.

Huh.

It didn't hurt at all.  I rolled back to check some favorite parts and that’s when I heard it - the groaning of broken wood and the silent scream of tortured olefin.

The Chair!

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

On my 3rd attempt  I finally got out and up.   I inspected the recliner with the thoroughness of an FAA investigator at a crash sight.

Well.

This sucks.

The game was about to start. I pulled a dining room chair six feet towards the TV which made it officially a living room chair.  I put it alongside TechnoBoy's side table and settled in.

Well.

This sucks.

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

And now, it’s the morning after.

Before going to work, TechnoBoy and I, devoid of pomp and ceremony, drag The Chair out to the minivan, turn it upside-down, and ram it over the back seat before slamming the tailgate.  The Wife and TechnoBoy get into the minivan and drive off to the dump.

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

Then, it is gone.

I feel like young Travis at the end of the movie when he had to put down Old Yeller. The neighbors drive by on their morning commutes, looking at me with worried concern.

Hindsight being 20-20, I guess I shouldn't have stood in the front yard crying and pretending to sight down a rifle while repeatedly shouting "BANG!".

Stuff happens.  Things break.  Things change. People change.  And people leave.  Whether they want to or not. It’s called “life”.

I wander inside, not yet ready to go to work.  I plop down onto that dining room/living room chair and reach for the steaming Elixir on the little side table. A long sip puts things into perspective.

In this life, promises are broken and things change.  Except for Him.  The One that offers eternal life.

He never breaks a promise. And He promised He'd never leave.

That He’d never change.

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.