A black stool, as black as the night sky, stood alone. There was nothing special about it that anyone could see. It was simply a cheap black stool, but it was not ordinary to me. To me it symbolized something special in my life: time spent with my brother.

Our family purchased the infamous black stool because my brother told my parents that he must have an electric piano. And he needed something to sit on while he played. True to my brother’s nature, he rarely played the must-have item. And the black stool sat there reminding us of the impulsive purchase. No one ever went near it. That is until the day my parents purchased computers for my brother and me.

When, out of the blue, my father decided to buy us computers, I knew the people in the next town must have heard me yelling with joy. Of course my older brother got a much nicer and faster computer. He was even given a new computer chair with wheels. I, on the other hand, did not get the executive chair. “Use the piano stool,” my father said. With my lip sticking out a mile, I went to the basement to get the filthy old stool.

In the weeks that followed, that stool became my favorite item in the playroom. After school I would run into our house like a madman to use my computer. My brother and I would play the same video game. Having a ball, we loved our time together. For the first time, I felt like I really connected with him. Previously I had only seen him at dinner. Now we shared adventures on the computer.

On that stool I have learned many life lessons. I learned to deal with sorrow and anger. From time to time my brother would get depressed, thinking no one loved him. But I was there, on that stool, loving him and helping him get through those dark emotions.

Because of that stool and a pair of computers, I gained a best friend. This ordinary object will always remind me of that special time I shared with my brother.