The Blue Chair

My favorite seat in the house is the blue chair.

It’s a blue La-Z-Boy recliner. Cloth covered.

It used to be one of a matching pair of blue recliners. A couple years after I bought them, the other one started falling apart at the seams and lost a lot of stuffing. 12 years later, the blue chair has a worn look, but it’s still holding together.

Sometimes I wish it were leather. Leather would be cooler in the summers. I tell myself that when the blue chair finally falls apart I’ll replace it with a leather chair. But it’s not showing any signs of falling apart. It could be a while.

The blue chair is my reading chair, my napping chair, my sick and have to be propped up at night chair, my quiet time with Silas chair.

Sometimes it’s Silas’ reading chair, his napping chair, his quiet time with Dad chair. Sometimes it’s Brooke’s napping chair, or her “pile stuff here” chair. But it’s one of the few place piles don’t stay piled for days or weeks at a time.

The blue chair is upstairs in the office Brooke and I share, away from public spaces in the house, by a front window that lets in the afternoon sun.

If the world were fair, everyone would have a blue chair.

It wouldn’t have to be blue. Or even a chair.

But everyone would have one.