The Blue Chair

Once upon a time, Mom and Dad bought two chairs.

Dad's was a leather recliner, that the cats tore to shreds, and made clickity-clackity noises when you jet-blasted it into recline mode.

Mom's was a blue corduroy that summed up Mom's soul:

Soft, comfortable, and moody-blue.

Not that Mom is moody.

But if you close your eyes and think of Mom, she has a blue glow, like her soul is of blue hue. Like she's floating in a moody-blue sky. Bluedy-blue.

I loved that chair.

Sitting in it was like getting a mommy hug.

And I don't know about you, but I don't get enough Mom hugs.

(Dad doesn't hug. He makes clickity-clackity noises when his daughters turn on the sentiment and jet-blast his man-den solitude with moody-ness.)

I remember playing hide-and-seek one day with Emily, and I ran into Mom's room, frantically looking for a place to hide, and Mom tucked me under the The Blue Chair.

Emily never found me. I was all safe under the Blue Chair. Mom was smug. I was smug.

Best hiding place ever (although, the dryer was a close second. But the dryer didn't smell like Mom....and it didn't take any joy in our hide-and-seek games...).

I don't know how I got so lucky, but I have the Blue Chair.

M I N E.

My own little piece of Mom.

Probably literally.

In all the years that thing has exisited, I don't think its had a bath.

I was rocking away in it with Eden the other day, and I looked down the crevices of the Blue Chair. It was pretty scary.

I should probably clean it out. Especially since Lily eats whatever she finds, and asks questions later (like today when she picked up a Luau Barbeque potato chip off the floor and popped it in her mouth, only to spit it out and make a "kkkkkkkkhhhhhh!" sound. Yeah, I know how you feel, Lily...I had the same reaction, and so did Jeremy, apparently, since he "accidentally" scattered them on the kitchen floor...).

So there you have it.

A little piece of Dandelion history for you.

Just in case you wanted to know.