Today R unfolded the third reclining deck chair as we sat reading trashy novels in the perfectly radiating afternoon sun. wait. there were actually four reclining deck chairs spread around the generous upper deck of our Loreto rental as well as the four padded iron uprights gracing the round granite table. “Why keep dragging this one around?” He shared his logic out loud.
“Is that your two o’clock chair?” I laughed. We have the tan chaise lounges at the very front, the one on the right catches first sun; warm enough to sit there with coffee by 9am. We were a few months later last season and by 7am Moxy and I were usually there already drying off after a morning paddle. There are four colorful striped chairs that tilt back perfectly for reading or snoozing.
One is the one behind the chimney that I like to use to study constellations with my new Ipad app when I am up at night, as I often am.
Then there is the one I sat next to the round table that is shaded by a filtered kind of roof and curtains hanging in front , when the full sun becomes too much. It is not like R to be lazing around in the sun like he is today but he has a head cold and is taking it easy. Moxy amuses us by grumbling when she has to get up and move to a warmer spot, then again to a cooler spot, then again to a warmer spot.
AHhh reclining. It is a landmark of aging as surely as counting rings on a tree isn’t it? I never understood how wonderful it was till I got old enough to have aching bones and muscles. The chair that allows your whole self to totally let go; legs, neck, back, arms and shoulders, all completely and thoughtfully supported.
Now I know why my Dad was so fond of that green recliner Mom got him as a gift. He just loved it. I could sit any old where. Heck, I could, and did, sleep on the concrete sidewalk, when my siblings and I took a summer notion to sleep out under the stars, as we often did, out in the big green yard.
And I remember grampa’s recliner in their little shotgun house on Garden street by the college. I am almost positive it was Naugahyde, and tan, presumably looking like leather. And, like my father’s, smelling of old tobacco, sometimes dirt from the garden, and decorated now and then with cat or dog hair.
I never liked Recliners before. They offended my aesthetic sensibilities……….Did they start making them look better or is my judgement clouded by the quest for comfort? Is that elevator music actually GOOD or am I just getting older?


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