It is cold outside my window, and I stand on tip toes to look out. There is a man walking by, and I watch his breath, as it curls out in a whisper of cloud. His head is pulled deep inside his coat and his shoulders hunched up, as he tries to keep the cold at bay. He carries on down the road and I watch him until he has disappeared from view.

I hear a voice calling me, and slowly it filters in through my own thoughts. "Callum, come on get your breakfast please." I turn away from what I was looking at and look towards the table at the chair. At that moment in time I did not want to be seated there. "Callum please hurry up." My brothers and sister watch me, wondering what I'm doing, and like so many days now, I wish.

But what's the point, my wishes never come true. I climb into the chair and eat. Giving us a cup of tea, my mother busy herself getting them ready for school. Being the eldest I'm dressed and had been out getting bread while the others slept.
I'm watching and I feel my sadness returning and again feel alone.

Inside me my tears are falling and I keep them there until nobody is watching. I am beginning to hate this chair, and wrap my legs round It, trying to break it. The chair holds my memories and now my anger. I slip out of it and sit in my own, looking at the vacant space and sit watching

"Ok Callum, bring them here and help put their coats on please." I do, only too glad to get away from the table. With us all holding hands we make our way to school. At the crossroads I wave and go up the hill to mine.

On reaching the castle walls there is a narrow path that takes me up a hill and past the place of rest and I slow down. The hill I'm on overlooks a fresh mound of earth where flowers are now withering away and as each day passes and I see them die, I feel more and more alone.

Slowly the weeks pass by, and the fresh mound of earth sinks back into the hole, Settling, holding down on its contents like a vice, never to give up what's in its grip. Each day after school I stop and sit at the foot of the mound, look down and whisper my story of the day to him and go home; my body aches with what I hold inside.

Tonight I feel alone, but I know I'm not, as I get in, dinner is being set out and I go to wash. I take my time and slip into my chair hoping my mother doesn't notice. She looks at me and I can see she knows something is wrong, but she says nothing.
The meal is mostly potato with a few carrots, I know things are difficult now and eat.

I leave the table and give thanks that I don't have to give an explanation. My brothers and sister disappear to bed one at a time depending on age till there is but me I sit listening to the radio; there is a story, which is on every night, called Journey into Space and I disappear into the realms of fantasy faintly aware of my mother sitting down.

The story finishes and I sit looking into the fire watching the flames dance and change colour. "Callum." I am suddenly pulled from my thoughts and look to where the call came from."Come here," my mother puts her hand on the patch where I'm to sit.
Like a second sense I know what she is going to ask and I can feel the tears waiting.

Who ever said a child doesn't know right from wrong is an idiot, and I was trying my hardest not to upset my mother. But now knew that it could not be helped. "What's wrong?" My chin is quivering as I try to hold back the tears. "Why won't you sit at the head of the table?" My shoulders are shaking uncontrollably now and my face is wet with tears.

Through the sobbing I try to explain that the chair is my father's and not mine, I don't want to sit in it. "It's his and always will be. Please, don't make me sit in it again." We are both crying and I feel that I have wronged her. "I'm sorry mum please don't cry any more." She explains, "you are now the man of the house and as such it is your place to sit at the head of the table, go to bed and we shall see what tomorrow will bring."

In my dreams that night I am talking to my father and he is guiding me to what I must do. In the morning I wake. "Callum can you go for the bread please?" I get up, my eyes red from crying myself to sleep. Dressed, I go downstairs and look immediately at my father's place, my fear rising, but his chair is no longer at the table but rather placed in the corner where he sits and watches over us, and my chair is at the head.

I look at my mum and she smiles, I hold her tight, thanking her, and go to the shop. I look back at my windows and the frost has left a pattern of lace upon them.

My breath is a cloud of mist which slowly drifts upwards in front of me and from the window I can see my father waving; I return the wave and run. That morning, on my way to school I stood at the foot of the mound; I looked down.

A cold breeze touched my brow; I smiled. Bye. Bye dad. And walked away, Bye.

In the evenings I sit and listen to the radio and sit in the chair, dreaming of space. He is here watching us, comforting us, I'm no longer afraid of the chair. It is my path to tranquillity. It has its special place for us all, and each of us take our turn to sit in it. Each of us has slept a comforting sleep in it.

In the chair I can see out the window. The snow is falling and I can see a man cleaning the snow from the path, his breath forming clouds, which disappear into nowhere.

(True life story)

Copyright 2001