There are some chairs we don't move.
Not because anyone told us not to.
We just don't.
Maybe it was the chair someone always sat in at the dinner table. The spot on the couch that somehow became theirs. The seat beside us in the car. The place they occupied so often that, even when they're no longer there, our eyes still know where to look.
And sometimes, the chair isn't really a chair at all.
Sometimes it's a place we've continued to hold for someone in our lives.
For someone who left.
For someone we lost.
For someone who changed.
For someone we had to walk away from.
Or even for a version of ourselves that doesn't exist anymore.
The strange thing about an empty chair is that it can still take up space.
We can arrange our lives around it.
Avoid sitting there.
Keep other people from getting too close to it.
Revisit it.
Remember who used to be there.
Wonder whether it will ever feel different.
And sometimes we don't realize how much room we're preserving for what is gone until we look around and notice how much of our present has been arranged around our past.
But an empty chair doesn't always need to be filled.
Sometimes it simply needs to be acknowledged.
Yes, someone sat here.
Yes, something mattered here.
Yes, I loved here.
Yes, I lost here.
And yes, I am still here.
Making room for what comes next doesn't erase what came before.
Sitting somewhere new doesn't mean the old seat didn't matter.
And allowing life to rearrange itself around you isn't forgetting.
Sometimes it's simply accepting that the room has changed.
And perhaps healing isn't about rushing to fill the empty chair.
Maybe it's about reaching the day when you can look at it without feeling like you have to keep your whole life waiting beside it.
Journal Prompt
Where have I been requesting a late checkout after my peace had already expired?
Take a few moments to sit with the question. Don't rush to answer it. Sometimes the most honest responses arrive only after we've allowed ourselves to become still.
Reflect • Release • Realign
This is your time.