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I am fascinated by random chairs that sit unoccupied as I walk or drive by homes in any given city. They appear in all shapes and sizes, colors, too.

I wonder about the conversations that were held between the occupants of two folding chairs that currently face in awkward directions from one another. How long ago was it since people sat in the chairs possibly discussing the weather, family happenings or politics even?

Some homes appear to have round table discussion of chairs sitting idle while other homes have a solitary seat, lonely in its existence.

I tend to wonder further about the solitary seat in a yard facing toward the street. A willow tree shades it from the bright sunshine. A pot of geraniums stands at attention nearby with a watering can nestled right beside it. I wonder why it is unoccupied on such a beautiful sunny day.

There are times when I feel up to large family activities full of happy conversation, joke telling and games. Most of all I enjoy the kinship. And there are times when I just want to be by myself in my own reflecting time, without conversation. I find those random moments to be a time to think of what could have been and isn’t, or what could be and hasn’t happened yet.

Whether I am in a group, two by two or just in a solitary seat, I love to let my mind wander and think about when the chairs will be occupied again and by whom. And in those thoughts, I am comforted by the stream of possibilities.

As I was writing the blog piece, I was focusing on a neighbor’s solitary chair in her front yard. I was thinking about how sad she must be that her daughter and husband moved out yesterday.

When I looked up after completing the writing, the chair was gone. It had been moved about 5 feet closer to the house and was occupied by the neighbor, engrossed in her own thinking time.