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Taken Seat.

I recall my grandfather’s old reclining chair. “Abuelito”, I used to call him, yet he was as French as he could be. That chair still sits in the middle of the living room, empty, yet full of everything he was and will always be. Its color has already faded from my memory but the way it felt and smelt remains. A worn-out fabric, soft, cozy, comforting, just like him. Warm in the winter, and relaxing in the summer. Whether it was 8 o'clock in the morning or in the evening, you could always count on that chair being occupied by its owner. If that chair could talk, it would tell you about cheese, wine, politics, fishing, and even throw some grumpy French swearing your way. It has a remote, the old recliner. The buzzing of the engine lowering the back and lifting the foot rest could be heard throughout the house, and would be later followed by some deep-sleep snoring. As a child, I used to sit on his lap while watching some boring European TV show. Sitting there has brought me comfort and warmth through the cold and harsh reality that is growing up. I could never dare to sit there again now. That recliner has seen it all, that recliner has held us all. A picture of me from many years ago stands on a wooden table beside it. Along with it is a snow globe from our trip to Paris. In the drawer of that table sits a “Moo box” (A small toy that when turned upside down makes a “moo” sound such as a cow). I can still picture him stealthily leaning over to open the drawer, thinking he would surprise me with the sound. I acted surprised and laughed anyways, I knew it made him happy. You could sometimes find my stuffed animals sitting there, waiting to just be asked to be put away. Somehow could never stand seeing the chair sitting alone in that room. “Don’t sit there”, were words you could often hear coming from my grandmother’s mouth, but somehow those words would never be meant for me. “Ma petite chérie” would most likely be the words that one could most likely hear being addressed to me in that house. But no, nobody should sit there anymore. Not even the spoiled granddaughter that I used to be. That seat is taken. There sits every ounce of happiness that he has ever given me. There sit all of those precious memories. There sits my grandfather, and all the love everyone will forever have for him.