The Wooden Chair was the first haibun I had written. This was published in Contemporary Haibun Online’s July issue, 2013, Vol 9. Please find below.
My Wooden Chair
I stroll restlessly in my new house as trees outside are being chopped for construction. Lifeless new buildings are sprouting in the neighbourhood. I wonder mildly about deforestation as I lean back in my chair.
my wooden chair screeches– memories of a felled tree
The old lady sits in the corner of a park bench, overlooking her nursing home. She laughs if spoken to, her toothless smile as pure as that of a baby, a testimony to her lost memories.
She does not remember her husband with whom she shared 40 years of pain nor does she remember her children to whom she gave 30 years of her health. She fails to recall her father who was never there. She has a fleeting memory of a young woman who birthed her, fed and sang to her, cried and laughed with her and has now become a picture in her ancient house, never growing old.
The old lady sobs softly disturbed by vague thoughts of her mother, alarming her caregivers. Then she is back to senile laughing self as those around her sigh in relief.