Whispers from an old wooden chair

I walked in a bleak garden in a late autumn, my attention was attracted by a wooden chair that had been tortured by storm for long and was taking on vicissitudes of life. I peered at her curiously, trying to find some clues.

Maybe she had witnessed the remarkable growth of a child who was born with a disability. But there was a merciful and considerate mother standing behind him forever. So, she felt the great love of mum and the significance of striving.

Maybe she had witnessed the love that was similar to Romeo and Juliet’s. So she sensed the purity and sacredness of love.

Maybe she had witnessed the precious friendship just as Marx and Engels’. So she realized the generosity and inspiration from friendship.

Maybe she had witnessed that the grass-roots class struggled against the adversities of life and took on the family burden bravely. So she penetrated the hardship of life and the value of  striving.

 Maybe she had witnessed a few rogues bullied the poor but feared the powerful or wealthy people. So she found the darkness and evil of society.

Maybe she had witnessed the miserable life of the aged who were abandoned by their children. So she discovered the selfishness and indifference of human.

Maybe……

A gust of chill wind pulled me out of the thoughts. In my view, her vicissitudes resulted from those evils and beauties, in short, the paradox of living. I bet she would confide more ample experiences and more thought-provoking stories to us in the future.