Wednesday, October 27, 2010
When I remember my Grandpa L, I can't help but think of his chair. As long as I could remember, Grandpa had his chair. During the day, you could find him sitting in his chair reading or visiting with people who dropped in. In the evening, he was watching the Blackhawks or the local news. You could always find him in his chair.
The chair matched the long sofa. It was 60s brown -- the old carpet looking material popular during the time -- and had a rusted look to it. It was worn along the arms where Grandpa rubbed his hand back and forth while thinking.
I would climb up onto his chair, sit on one of the arms, and sit with him. He smelled of aftershave, fresh dirt (from gardening) and Listerine. Grandpa would involve me in whatever he was doing and I could have sat there forever.