The Green Couch

Tonight we sold our green couch. (Praise Craigslist.) Which means that we finally got our new leather couches. I should be happy, and really I am. But watching somebody drive away with my old green couch in the back of their pick-up felt like I was losing a piece of my life.

We bought that couch when we were expecting our third child. We were shopping at second-hand furniture shops for a dresser to accommodate our growing family, and just happened upon this couch. It was most unnatural for Mr. Man and I to agree on something for our home, and it happened so quickly, and was actually affordable, and so we traded in the black futon for our comfy green couch.

Our hometeacher at the time was gothic and strange, and upon his next visit informed us of how much he liked our new couch and how deep it was. His exact comment was, "I could totally spoon my wife on this couch." I'm telling you, that couch holds memories. Good and strange.

That couch was so incredibly comfortable. Many family members, upon visiting us, have slept on that green couch. My little brother spent weeks on that thing. I can picture dozens of children: neighbors, friends, cousins... who have sat and, ahem, jumped on that couch. My own children have peed and even thrown up on that couch. Mr. Man and I have, well, enjoyed being on that couch too.

How many movies have we watched together, games enjoyed, and family home evenings held on or around that couch? How many bowls of popcorn eaten (and mostly spilled) on that couch? How many days did I spend while on bed rest with one leg up on that couch? How many times have I cleaned that thing?

And now it's gone.

And I'm sort of sad. But also see it as a passing of days. Passing of student life. Passing of having babies and toddlers. Now our new couches will get to hold our memories and life passings... and I really need to google how to get throw up off of leather before it actually happens. Because it will.