This is Bompa’s chair. It resides in our house, La Casa Suave. I stole it. However, I refer to the chair as my “pre-inheritance”. You see, the reclyner was offered to me by my mother, the author of my life, prior to their move South. According to Bompa, Mom neglected to confer with Pops. We have re-constructed the scenario and presume their conversation went as such: Mom said, “Tim’s taking your seat”, and Dad heard, “Tim is talking to Pete”, or something like that. During the confusion, I snuck into town with my 260 pound friend, his wirey son, and a trailor. In a wink, and under the cover of night, we offed with the seat of snoozes before Dad was the wiser.
To this day, when visiting, Bompa often sits in the chair and sighs. They are the sighs of memories lost.
See ya’ by the fire…