Hands have been shaken, backs have been jovially slapped, a tired soul has rested his self there after a hot day in the field. Jokes have been swapped, new neighbors have been informally introduced, a kind word or even a reproving one has been uttered from this spot. Hunting stories are shared, football predictions and after-game discussions are a ritual here. The latest community gossip can always be heard, as can also weather forecasts and how well area gardens are faring. Coffee has been sipped, as well as spilled, but this ole perch never complains.
Its black rustic, metal frame has been placed there in the same spot for these past twelve years I’ve lived in this country community. Never once have I seen it moved from that exact spot in front of the counter. The paint may be peeling, the cushion may have stains and lost its fluff, but that black stool is a favorite spot of any local to take a load of their feet or a trouble off their mind. You can count on Ms. Betty or Ms. Sharon being behind that counter with a listening ear or a hearty laugh. You can count on a point-of-view exclaimed too as the stool sits often silent with an occasional squeak.
People may come and go and the store may close for the night, but you can always count on that old black stool to welcome you when you come in for coffee at the break of dawn or in the morning light.
|wish i had a picture of the stool! pictures of the country "mall" where the stool calls home is the best i could do.|