There is a chair

in our house where everyone sat.

Pulled up to the table to eat with the rest.

I didn’t like my chair.

Mom said, “Sit here ’til you drink that milk.”

So I sat.

The kitchen was dark,

looking across the table to the windows to the back.

Everyone left to go in the other room.

And I sat.

The milk got warm

and still I sat.

In the 1950’s chair, that we all sat in.

Wooden and hard,

where modern mothers made their children drink milk

to make them strong.

Passed down like a family treasure.

Probably with a cup of milk still sitting there.

(youth chair in kitchen August 27th, 2010 and Michael’s first birthday January 30th, 1985)