Of course even during my most occupied of times, I always stayed aware of where I was, in respect to '"the chair"'. There was nothing really remarkable about this chair. It wasn't an antique, or a family heirloom. It was just an old overstuffed chair, whose arms and seat were thread bare from use. There was probably one much like it in the furnishings of thousands of other low-income homes. There was only one thing that made this one chair any more remarkable than the ones in those other homes. This one had the distinction of being designated as. '"Dad's Chair"'. It always had the aroma of machine oil about it. Dad worked in a tool and die shop. Many times he had come home, tired from work, and had collapsed onto the chair before showering and changing clothes. So, machine oil from his clothes, transferred to the chair. Occasionally, metal filings found their way onto the chair, as well.Please remember that I was only three or four at the time, and that my perspective of size has. It was at this point in time when the front door of the house finally opened with a bang as a beautiful woman lumbered out carrying several huge bags. I watched the woman in amusement as she struggled to lock the door with the bags still in her hands. She eventually gave up trying, the weight of the bags proving too much for her to keep her hands steady.Turning around in exasperation with the bags still in her hands, she gave the most adorable pout while starring at me, pleading with her big, round eyes for me to come over and give her a hand.I chuckled helplessly as I finally stood up and walked towards this beautiful woman whom I had only just married yesterday.Standing before my goddess, I took a good long look at my stunning wife, Anne, who was currently standing at the porch staring back at me with a slight look of discontent on her face. Wearing a thin, floral cami sundress that ended just below her butt, the sunlight revealed the silhouette of her slim yet curvy body and her.
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