Armchair for a Grandson

Armchair for a Grandson - part one

Armchair for a Grandson

Cinema glow.

Fits like a glove.

Familiar. Stroke.

Comfort.

Connection.

Warmth.

Melt.

Love.

The smell of him — rough hair,

baby-sweet,

four year old sweat,

salty,

muddy,

earthly.

What is a chair?

A seat for one person.

I am a chair.

I am his chair.

Memory,

feeling,

connection,

familiar.

He was afraid,

so he climbed into my lap for comfort.

For familiarity.

His mother before him.

A chair has four legs for support.

A back for resting — my core.

Arms for holding — my arms.

A chair supports.

A chair protects.

A chair is a place of authority,

of comfort,

of safety.

Footnote: Modern day movie version of Matilda Frightening, sensory overload for a little one.

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