THE DAD CHAIR
Every dad has a “dad chair.” Broken in like an old baseball mitt. Molded perfectly from years of faithful service. As comfy as your favorite sweatshirt.
Yup, a dad chair is the stuff.
My father had one, and, boy was it something. This thing had all the makings of the perfect place to spend a few glorious, relaxing hours.
A pop-up leg rest for his tired feet. Plush corduroy stuffed to the gills. And the best spot in the house — perfectly positioned in front of both the TV and the front door.
But, truth be told, these are just perks — things a salesman spouts off before knocking off another twenty bucks to make a sale. Only one thing can really make a good dad chair — the man who sits in it. Without him, well, it’s just a chair.
Best believe I knew this at an early age. You’d catch me on any given night, crawling into the dad chair just to be next to my Dad. He’d scoot over, just enough for me to nestle between him and the worn-in armrest. I’m telling you, you haven’t lived until you’ve sunk your little body deep into a dad chair with your Dad. You aren’t moving until he moves, and, thankfully, on most nights it was gonna be awhile. I remember it like it was an hour ago — those times when the dad chair became the “Matt and Dad Chair.”
Unfortunately, as time would have it, I outgrew sitting in the chair with Dad. But, just as I used to crawl into his lap, I find new ways to crawl into his life.
“Dad, what’s the noise coming from my engine?”
“Dad, how about some golf?”
“Dad, what do you think about this job offer?”
“Dad, how the heck do I raise my own kids?”
And just like those nights in the dad chair, my Dad is there — always ready to provide the warmth. The love. And the comfort I need.
And, yup, that's the stuff.
Happy Father’s Day, pal. Thanks for always saving me a place in your dad chair.