Of Grandma & Her Favorite Chair

with daybreak came the assessment
of all things loved. Grandma's
favorite chair was seated
perfectly in the middle, surrounded
by years of family belongings
and gifts we never opened.
it was still sturdy in its presence;
strong, yet defeated. she noticed
it as soon as we walked through
what used to be the door to
our attic. I could hear my Mom's
tears drowning out the
solid winds leftover from
this morning's vicious storm.

I looked to my left,
my Father was calculating
the damage in his distorted mind,
silently weeping for decades of
debris. I am the eldest. I was
the only child home at the time.
We all hid in our basement,
thankful to have had shelter
from God's wrathful hand.
when the storm passed,
we emerged.

Of Grandma & Her Favorite Chair

in the corner next to a pile
of muddy books, my Grandmother
stood. she sobbed into a
monogrammed handkerchief,
thanking the heavens for life.
her favorite chair, solid in the
midst of chaos and lost hope
withstood twenty-two years of
family antics and after
ten minutes it was
forever changed.