The chair from my Sunday morning coffee time

When I moved out of the apartment we shared as a couple, I took with me one of the high chairs so that I could use it with my desk.  But then it wasn't long before I was recalled back to the office full time so it didn't get much use in my first apartment on my own.  

Today, I brought it in my car to Atlanta and set it up at the counter of my new kitchen.  I pulled out my laptop from my backpack, set it up on the counter, dug out a plate to hold a muffin I had brought, and opened a bottle of wine.  I then sat down on this high chair at the counter and memories ran through me.

It was a chair just like this one (although I don't think this exact one) where I would sit every Sunday morning as I sipped my coffee at the kitchen counter with my laptop in front of me.  Frequently, he would interrupt me to do something but I stood my ground.  In those last couple of years, this was one hour of peace I refused to give up.

Now these memories occupy the same space of a completely different version of me in a completely different state.  It seems such a distant memory yet feels so real in this moment.  Maybe it was my refusal to give up that peace that actually pushed me into this very trajectory.  

It's unreal how far I've come.