Well, its not just a couch to me. It has been around almost as long as I've been alive and no memory of my dad's place exists without it in it. When my father was young he used to go to "raw" furniture stores and buy pieces to take home and refinish. He refinished a coffee table, 2 end tables, and an entertainment center cupboard and bought the couch and love seat to match. I have memories of sleeping on the couch, curling up and reading a book in its corner, covering up with a wool blanket that I'm sure is as old as the piece of furniture itself, opening Christmas gifts, and the list goes on. My step-sister, Cortney, and I used to take turns running down the hallway and jumping over the back of the couch to see who could jump the highest. During our races someone always kept an eye out to warn the other one if one of our parents came home.
For may years being at my Dad's was stressful. Most of the time there during the summers was spent second guessing myself and walking on eggshells but there was that period of time during the day while my dad and step-mother were at work that I was able to relax. A lot of that time was spent outdoors at the pool or riding bikes through the neighborhood but the time inside was usually spent on that couch keeping comfy. There are tv shows today that always remind me of those summers like 90210, TRL, the TV guide channel, and Boy Meets World. I would sprawl out on the brown, broken in, velvety surface with the remote in my hand and surf while it was safe.
When my dad moved into a new house several years ago it was one of the few things that I still recognized amongst the new furniture and decorations. At first when I walked in I thought it was all gone. In its place was a brand new, beautiful couch and chair. But then I found it tucked away in a small, closed off room out of plain sight and I knew that I was at Dad's.
I know it seems silly but I have become attached to it. Dad telling me of his plans to replace it with a leather couch made my heart sink. It was as if he was giving me proof that a chapter of my life has closed. That I really am a grown up and there is no going back. I know that if I were him I would want new furniture. After all, he has had it for 23 years but I will miss it. I would never want it for my house. Its not my style. It belongs at Dad's and it makes me heart sick that this furniture that he put so much work into and that I have created so many memories around will no longer be around. I guess I have grown up....I'll miss you, couch.
