On My Doorstep

By bwhere

Stool

Forget the socks with writing on and the flashy trousers, this blip is about the stool I am sitting on.

I was given it by a former vicar of this parish who is now gone. He wore his religious experience on his sleeve, as the saying goes. He tried to teach me how to play the piano. His wife and family were friends. He struggled with his faith and talked about it. He was a vicar of this parish who moved me religiously.

He spoke about his attempts at sitting quietly. He spoke about the huts he had in his various gardens that were his in which he sought peace of mind.

He gave me this meditation stool.

I remember him with gratitude.

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