The Chair

Prescott Avenue is not a through street and is home to many kids who love to play outside. (I know, shocking, huh?) I see much of their activity outside my upstairs bedroom window.

I've been witness to a snowball fight of epic proportion complete with igloo forts on each side of the snow packed street. I've watched with delight as two boys had a "shoe kicking" contest. They stood side by side, balanced their untied sneakers on their toes and flung them down the street. Still makes me smile thinking about it. I've also marveled at their ingenuity as they split a bike and a pair of skates between four individuals: One peddling the bike, one riding on the handle bars, one wearing the left skate scooting along with the right foot, and yes, the last wearing the right skate scooting along with the left foot.

They're entertaining, these kids of Prescott Avenue.

Yesterday, I heard wheels on the pavement that I didn't recognize. Not a bike, not skates, not a scooter, not a skateboard. I couldn't figure it out, so I investigated. I saw a group of kids taking turns to ride in an office chair while being pushed or pulled down the street. Throughout the day, the chair served many different functions: a simple ride, a trailer behind a bicycle, a "boat" with a hockey stick oar navigating along the sidewalk, and the chariot of the commanding officer whose minions, all armed with enormous water guns, were pulling him down the street. I hurried to get my camera but missed that shot.

I tend to personify objects by imagining that they have feelings. I imagine that this common ordinary office chair had no idea what the future held as he sat on that plastic square in front of his desk day after day. Maybe he dreamed of being an amusement ride, a trailer, a boat, a chariot, or maybe even a simple toy cart. And I know I let my imagination run wild, but I really can almost hear him screaming, "WHEE!"