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)

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Published in: on August 28, 2010 at 3:28 am  Comments (8)  
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8 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Oh man, my sister sat in that chair a lot in our growing up years. She was a picky eater, and my parents were strict — the clean-your-plate types. My sister sat and sat. And then they put her plate in the fridge and served it to her for breakfast, no lie! But stubborn one, she persevered and didn’t eat it. My sister won in the end!

    • My mom didn’t do the clean plate thing, but we 1950’s babies were pushed on milk.
      Did I mention I hate milk?
      I still hate it.

  2. Thank you for visiting my blog. Yours is beautiful and I look forward to reading more of it!

  3. I don’t blame you, I hate milk too! Enjoyed your pensive and thought provoking posts.

    • thanks for the feedback. I’m a bit of an older mom, and sometimes the stories from when I was a kid aren’t passed on since we don’t live near family.

  4. 🙂 wow!

  5. lovely!


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