Many people have small things that act as a transporter and bring them back into a special time. To some women it may be jewelry or a dress. For me, an orange chair is my transporter to a special time.

One day when I was about 8, I was in a home goods store and I saw this orange leather chair. I immediately asked my mom if she could buy it for me and hesitantly she said yes. She asked many questions like “why” and “this is a waste of money”, but my desire to have it outlasted my mother’s logical reasoning. The sole reason for me wanting to get this chair was just because it was obscure and wild looking.
Eventually, I brought it home and placed it in my brother’s all black and white room as a joke. I would go into my brothers room everyday at this age to play video games with him or to just hangout with him. At first, my brother was confused and angry because it made his room look very awkward and stupid. Overtime, my brother and I acquired a very weird like for this orange chair. When we would decide to play video games or watch an action movie in his room, we would fight over who would be able to sit in the chair. He would always say that it is his room and he can sit where he wants. I would always say that if it wasn’t for me finding this chair and hauling it into your room, we wouldn’t have it. My brother always won the fight for the chair. We had many fist fights on the chair and many things were thrown around the room at the chair whether we were fighting over it, or were fighting over something completely different and the chair just happened to get hit.
Recently, my brother moved out into an apartment and I took his room. Then a few months ago, my father told me that he was going to throw away the orange chair because it was ripped and had stains on it. I immediately told my father no but I couldn’t tell him why. Now this time, my father was the one confused and questioning why he couldn’t throw away the chair. I realized that something as insignificant as an orange leather chair is so important to me because of all the memories I had with it with my brother and his friends. Every event that left a mark on that chair, left a mark on me. When I close my eyes, I remember every stain, every rip, and every hole in the leather and why they are there. I try to associate anything else with these great memories and nothing sticks except this orange leather chair.