I was sittin’ on the porch, my legs crossed on the old rocking chair mama passed down to me. That chair creaked like it was tryin’ to tell me somethin’ every time I shifted. In my hands, a mug of sweet tea, steam wavin’ up like it had its own rhythm.
“Boy, you gon’ sit there all day?” my sister Tia called from the kitchen, leanin’ out the door with her own cup. “You ain’t doin’ nothin’ but lettin’ that chair boss you around.”
I laughed. “Nah, sis. This chair just teachin’ me how to move slow, that’s all.”
She rolled her eyes but came and sat next to me, feet on the porch step. Our mugs clinked lightly. I watched the tea swirl, sunlight glintin’ off the amber liquid. The porch was quiet, only the wind and the occasional creak of the furniture to keep us company.
“This old stuff,” I said, patting the arm of the rocking chair, “been through everything. Rain, heat, cousins fightin’ over it. And still steady.”
Tia smiled, sip her tea. “True. Furniture like this… it hold more than weight. It hold memories.”
I nodded slow, rockin’ back and forth. Tea in hand, sister by my side, porch under my feet, and a chair that felt more like a friend than anything else. Some things simple, but they steady your mind better than a hundred fancy plans ever could.
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