The Couch

The couch. 

When Chuck and I were married almost thirty-two years ago he brought into the marriage a yellow and brown plaid couch. When we moved to our first house we quickly purchased a new couch. 

It was a soft, brown upholstered beauty, and we wasted no time in inviting Chuck's mom and aunt over to show it off. Now Chuck's Aunt Maxine was no spring chick, and I remember her making a comment about how low to the ground the couch was as she struggled to get up. Chuck and I were clueless about what she was talking about. Our twenty something bodies didn't seem to have any trouble at all. 

Over the years the couch made its way from home to home. It stayed up late with me during midnight feedings, and was just the right height for our geriatric Bassett Hound to maneuver. Eventually, in our last house it found its home in our game room. 

Now that I'm more of an autumn chick I've come to realize what Aunt Maxine was talking about. That darn couch is so low to the ground it requires some real effort to lift yourself up to a standing position. It's kind of funny how given enough time, everything seems to come full circle. 

Now that we're moving to a smaller home I'm afraid our days with the couch are numbered. It hasn't made the cut and it won't be coming along for the journey. However, I still can't help but laugh when I remember the words of Aunt Maxine.