Day 122: My favourite chair has seen better days. In fact, I had to reassemble it for the photo from an untidy heap of parts found on the porch of this little cabin in Pack Forest. The last time I'd seen it, it was still holding together, although you wouldn't have wanted to set anything weighing more than an ounce on the seat. I suspect at some point, its rickety bones will be carted away and discarded, a fate which makes me more than a little sad.
I believe the cabin may have been occupied by a caretaker in Pack Forest's early years, but I don't know that for sure. If you peer through the dirt-marked windows, you will see some evidence of prior habitation: a hard hat, a basin for washing dishes. Faded gingham curtains speak of someone who wanted to add a homey touch, and the chair itself says that someone once enjoyed sitting on the porch.
When I first discovered the chair over two decades ago, it was functional. Occasionally at the end of a hike, I'd sit in it for a few minutes, wishing it could tell its story. I liked to think that my pausing there made it feel less lonely. Had I known its fate would come to this, I might have asked if I could give it a home. Now, it is beyond hope, its arms broken, its seat collapsed.
In some way, I have given the poor thing a degree of immortality in photos captured during our brief acquaintance, and truly, what more can any of us hope for in the longer term? We are all transient beings, resolving into the realms of memory.
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