Empty chairs in the woods … a story on hold
Scenes from a closed-down neighbourhood in a closed-down world
It’s just a small woodlot at the corner of the property, mere metres away from the high school and the oncewatchful eyes of teachers.
A group of chairs, likely missing from a classroom some time ago, are arranged haphazardly in a little clearing.
During warmer months, secluded from view by the foliage of spring, a handful of students likely met here for lunch, a break, a smoke (hopefully not…), maybe just skipping class on a really nice day. They would talk and laugh, perhaps cry about things that teenagers do.
When the leaves fell, their special place exposed, the young people would disperse and move on, probably taking with them stories to be told to children and grandchildren one day.
Throughout those cold and blustery months that followed, it’s easy to spot those empty chairs through the bare trees, like sentinels, remaining as they were left, patiently awaiting the next round of backsides.
Passersby in the know would have chuckled wondering where those kids are now. Graduated? Married with kids? Some returning to take up their same old seats, making room for a few just starting those memorable high school years?
A little like the story of Brigadoon, the mystical Scottish village that appears just one day every 100 years, this secret little space would only appear to the outside world every autumn, only to disappear from view behind a green curtain of leaves.
It is spring again, early spring. The trees are still bare but the tableau has changed. The chairs have moved. They appear to have been carefully stacked and laid down or had fallen down, onto their sides. Someone likely surmised that an enticing gathering spot like this wasn’t the best idea in the midst of a global pandemic.
The image, against the backdrop of the school, now visible through the trees, is captivating in its ordinary simplicity. I would never have given this much thought before or even notice … who would? But I see things differently now. I think a lot of us do. Not a pile of discarded plastic and chrome as some might see it, end of story. No this is just one little story on hold.
We have just pushed the pause button as a closeddown neighbourhood in a closed-down world that waits out this New-Age war. One day, we will find those chairs unstacked, sitting upright and randomly arranged again, perhaps two meters apart. Nevertheless we will celebrate a glimpse of life through those trees.
Students will return to classes, some will sneak off to this gathering spot, just like before and their teachers, who might have ordered detentions in the past, may just smile and look the look the other way, at least that first time.