Lonely Is a Velvet Chair

In the old house I grew up in, there was an antique velvet chair that sat in the corner of the living room draped with a sheet. It was never used as far as I could tell.  Mother said it was too fine a chair to be dirtied up by our sweaty little bodies. So there it stood ,while I sat on the floor to watch television.

Years later after she passed away, the chair ended up in my grandparent's garage once again draped with a sheet. I came across it searching for old photos of my family. I had spent many nights there at my grandparent's and other friend's houses throughout that difficult time.

Looking back now, I realize it was simply my Dad's way of protecting me from the emptiness that so filled our home. I suppose he did not understand that loneliness is not merely solidarity, for I learned then, that it is also magnified by being kept apart from where you are meant to be.

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