Waddled Down my Memory Lane

As I stepped into my home on the 1st of August this year, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. There, amid my entrance, I saw my dear yellow and red duck chair, adorned with its signature blue cap, being handed over to our former driver by my mother. Instantly, a surge of denial coursed through me. Old possessions have a unique way of encapsulating memories, each one a melody that evokes a spectrum of emotions upon remembrance. My Donald Chair, a relic from childhood, held a special place in my heart – a constant companion through my life's journey so far.

My parents gifted me this chair when I was just three years old. For 22 years, it had borne witness to my growth, silently sharing in the highs and lows of my existence. From comforting me on my first day of school to providing solace upon my return from a prolonged stay in France, it had been a steadfast presence in my life. While often frowned upon, material attachments serve as tangible reminders of our human self. Hence, grateful for its companionship, I couldn't bear to part with it abruptly.

Expressing my reluctance to let go, I offered to move the chair safely in the car, bidding it a silent farewell. As I carried it, memories flooded my mind – the day we first brought it home, my stubborn insistence on naming it Donald Duck, and the joyous ride back on my father's scooter, the chair riskily balanced between us.

From that day forward, the duck chair became an intimate part of my life. It was there for me during meals, late-night study sessions, and lazy afternoons lost in the world of video games. As I secured it in the car, I stole one final glance, etching its image into my memory before turning to embrace what was still waiting for me to embrace.