When I was six years old, my mom bought me a small monoblock chair. Its colour is white with small dots on it and in the back there was a big smiley face printed in blue. I used to sit on the floor and placed my toys and food on that chair while watching television. Then my mom told me to remove all the stuff on the chair and place it on the table because that chair is made for sitting.
At the age of 8, I started sitting there doing my assignments with my dad and brother. After dinner, I carried that chair on my room to hide it because I hate home works and I thought if that chair is gone, I would have an excuse for not doing my assignments. On my graduation day, my dad took a photo of me sitting on that chair, with the gifts that I received from my relatives.
At 15, I totally forgot about that chair and my mom kept it on the room where all used furniture were placed in. On my debut party, while I’m waiting for the guests to arrive, I found that chair in a darker corner of my room, covered by creased clothes. I removed all the stuff on it, and cleaned it, I sat there and trying to recall all the memories that I had on that chair. I was so surprised because my hip still fit on it though it is very small.
And while I’m typing this blog, I keep on looking on that chair from time to time. It is very old now. The 12-year old white, now a yellowish chair with scratches on the handle, and a big smiley face printed in blue, still smiling on me, has the trace of my childhood.
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