I image that this is how some feel about parting with a good car, or moving out of a home. The emotion is a mixture of bitter sweet nostalgia, along with a rush of memories before saying goodbye. The countless hours we have spent together. All the many places we have dwelled. Your cushions have be christened by food, vomit, pee from Gavin’s 1st grade friend, blue gator aid that I could never get out, an apple core that rotted before found (thanks you Gavin), and buckets of tears during my divorce.
Together we’ve watched loads of movies, read countless books, and made visitors comfortable. You’ve kept me contented when I was sick, not to mention helped me relax during my pregnancies. You’ve been quiet solace while my husband snored. You’ve never shared with anyone the things I eat after mid-night, or the amount of wine I have consumed.
You even survived the night I dive bombed you because the swat team raided the neighbor’s house. Or in that same apartment dried out from the flood of the over-flowing washing machine. And the jumping, climbing, sprawling, plopping and yes even sex. There were times that I over-washed you because of cases of pink-eye or head lice the kids brought home.
Our pets were never allowed be privy to your awesomeness, however I know you let them sneak a few naps in when we were not around. Even when you suffered the scratches or snags on your once white fabric from mischievous felines, you kept their rendezvous with you secret.
I am sure you didn’t always appreciate the times we tore you apart looking for valuables such as remote controls, money, pacifiers, camera lens caps, keys and super heroes, all of which you hid very well!
In my single mom years when I would get scared of things that went bump in the night, for some reason I always felt better resting on you in the glow of the television, than I did my own bed. I never understood this as you were always placed close by any door in which someone could get to me much quicker, than if I had locked myself up in my own bed room. Either way you were my safe haven.
For nearly fifteen years we have spent time together every single day, except when I went on vacation or slept over at someone’s house. I could always count on the fact that I could rest my aching bones, and worried mind on you every evening when I arrived home.
We’ve watched history unfold together. I can recall the anxious days we watched the towers collapse over and over on the news. We saw royalty wed in the wee small hours of the morning. Watched presidents come and go, viewed natural disaster go down, sports games, and American Idol. Together we witnessed it all.
That old saying, “to be a fly on the wall,” makes me think of you. Who would want to be a fly? I would choose to be one of your brightly colored pillows. You’ve watched the family pets come and go. Only you probably know the secrets about the house we felt was haunted. You were there when I brought my new babies home from the hospital. The arguments you have witness have been countless, and I am sure at times painful to hear. You were there at all the big good-byes and important hellos. The sad fact is aside from my immediate family you have been in my life for longer than most any person I know.
I cannot image another sofa to be half as wonderful as you. A sofa that will not only endure the physical stress we will demand of it, but I wonder, will the next one be around to witness as many marvels and milestones in my life as you have? I know that I will miss you, and will look back and think in fondness “That was a really great sofa!”
1997-2012
Awesome photos by LaRysa Orman of Image Photography.
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