Perhaps it’s my lovely leather as you lounge by the fire, sitting bundled up in a blanket with a book to read (or your phone) during that blizzard in mid January where you appreciate my value. Or maybe it’s my wicker in your grandparents house, where your fondest memories of me are. Or even, for you sadistic people, you may like me best as the hard wooden or fake ceramic or whatever I am made out of chair in your favorite High School class.
Me and my kind take the brunt of the your struggle. Without us, the pain and agony of standing would consume you. You would not be the same person you are: you would be lean, physically active, though more irritable. I see the essence of life; I smell your farts, and I see your fat.
Whatever your hopes, desires, and aspirations for this winter, remember me, the little guy (or in some cases big guy) who is always there for you when you need support, courage, or even sleep to make your lives comfortable. When you and your families gather this holiday, remember me, the chair.