CHAIR

I sat on the porch peering out over the front lawn, watching the sunset.  A frosty can of beer dripping condensation onto my hand. Sweat was still beading down my face from working on the farm since sunrise.  Covered in sweat and dirt, I sat on my rocking chair I had constructed from the old walnut tree from the front lawn.  The smooth, dark finish felt like glass on my damp hands.  The steady rocking made me feel as if I was being cradeled.  Everyday after I work, I sit down in my chair with a beer in my hand and watch the sun disappear behind the tall pine trees in the distance.  The pink and orange mixture in the sky looks like a famous painting.  Each day is a new painting in the sky.  Some days my wife will join me before dinner.  She will sit next to me in her rocking chair and we talk about our day.  Then she spends her time in the kitchen making me a fantastic meal for dinner.  Working on the farm is what I love to do.  The feeling of accomplishment and pride overtakes my body when I sit on my rocking chair, watching the beautiful sunset.