This Chair

What can I say about a chair? At first glace you see the thread bare seat and the slightly dark arms and maybe the slight lean on the front side. But sit in it and you feel at home, at least I do. This chair is like a warm hug from my Dad even though he is hundreds of miles away. It was his chair first and was passed to me. Hey, at least he gave the chair up willingly, unlike the blanket I'm currently wrapped in and the vikings sweatshirt that I often wear. Those I "stole" and he never complained about missing them. Back to the chair, it's where nieces and nephews were rocked. Where I learned to nurse a baby and spent many a nap time staring at the miracle in my arms. Where I learned that you can nurse one baby and bottle feed another. I recovered from three c-sections in this blue chair and I mourned a miscarriage wrapped in its warmth. Things have been spilled on it, rubbed into and art added to it through the years. Looking at it, it's just a chair, a beat up, over a decade old, thread bare, lazy boy. But sitting in it brings back all the memories it has made with me. Babies rocked, tears spilled, messes cleaned up, naps spent, and so much more. This is more then a chair, it's home.