Grandpa’s La-Z-Boy

I loved sitting in my grandpa’s La-Z-Boy when I was a kid.

It was so big that I felt like I’d never grow big enough to fit it.

My legs dangled in the front, my arms made the shape of an uppercase ‘T’ just to reach the outside of the armrests, and my head only reached halfway up the back. I had to use every ounce of my bodyweight to pull the reclining lever backwards.

I wasn’t allowed to sit in it while he was awake. Of course, he never would’ve said that, but, when he wasn’t around, my grandma made sure I knew that was the rule.

I waited all day and I counted down the minutes at night til he’d go to bed.

When I’d stay at my grandparents, at exactly 10pm, my time would come. My grandpa would go in his room for bed and I’d climb right into that La-Z-Boy. I wouldn’t move til I went to bed.

My grandma was a night-owl.

I think she’s where I get it from.

She’d sit in her spot on her couch and, for the rest of the night, we’d watch TV together.

We’d talk about what we were watching on TV. For the most part, it was late night talk shows.

Whatever it was, we’d talk late into the night.

I didn’t care what we watched as long as it meant I got to stay up and talk with her and sit in my grandpa’s La-Z-Boy.

I’m big enough to fit in my grandpa’s La-Z-Boy now and I bet I’d still love late night chats with my grandma.

I miss my grandpa’s La-Z-Boy.

And, I miss those late night conversations with my grandma too.