Once there was a sofa…and she loved a little family.
We bought a burgundy-and-green sofa and love seat–our first matching set as a married couple–at Costco. It was Navajo-ish in pattern. It was a happy sofa set. That sofa quickly became part of the family.
We lounged on it. We watched movies on it. We snuggled on it. We dined on it. And the sofa was happy.
When our first son was born, the three of us did more lounging and eating and snuggling and sleeping. You could pull out the hide-away bed for late night movies. The sofa smiled.
My baby boy grew into a toddler and we read books together on the sofa–such as The Giving Tree. He played with his toys on it. My son sipped and spilled his apple juice on it. The sofa didn’t seem to mind.
The sofa became a trampoline (when I wasn’t looking) and a dock for jumping off of (when I wasn’t looking). And the sofa was happy.
When my daughter was born, the four of us did more lounging, snuggling, sleeping, reading, eating. More sippy cups were spilled. A few pee accidents. The sofa didn’t mind.
But time went by.
We would scrub the stains. Fill the flattening cushions with fiberfill to fluff them up. We kept her looking spiffy. And the sofa was happy.
Over the years, the sofa became sorta droopy and stain soaked.
We spruced her up, I put an ad in the paper, and this guy bought the set just like that. For $500.
What a fair price for a sofa with so many memories!
(Now when I write this, I feel like a traitor. Betraying my sofa friend. Just like the guy who cut down the giving tree until it was a mere stump, after so many years of take take take. I wrote about that here.)