Growing up, there was always a comfy chair in the living room. It was the one that sat in the corner and was where my father went when he got home from work. It was his chair. He would sit in the chair and read for hours when he had the chance.
The thing I remember most about the chair is the times when Dad would be sitting there and Mom would stretch out across his lap. She would sit on his lap and they would chat, sometimes giggling and sometimes smooching. I, of course, being under 12 at the time thought this was quite disgusting. However, as an adult, the memory makes me happy.
Once we moved to the new house, it was never quite the same. I think it was that we were all growing up so quickly and had so many things on the go. It never seemed they had the time to sit in the corner chair any more. Or, it could be I stopped noticing. I was, after all, a very important teenager with much more important things on my mind.
All my life, I have wanted to have the comfort of sitting in the chair in the corner discussing all of life's moments. I have wanted to have that same level of closeness and companionship. (Without the constant fear of crushing my partner.*)
To me, the chair in the corner is my definition of comfort and quality togetherness. Tucked into a small part of the universe reserved for just us for this small amount of time. Reality and trouble can be all about us, but not while we sit in our chair in the corner. There, it can just wait until we are done.
*This could have been a real possibility. I have dated some very short men during my time.