Our Couch

Most couches nowadays are too big and too stuffed. They have no shape, and to my skeptical eye they announce, “If you buy me, you will lie on me all day long, eating potato chips and watching television. I will absorb you, and you will never leave.” My tastes are rather old school, and I wanted a couch that was comfortable for sitting, not designed for lying splayed out in a sugar coma.

The student life, living on a small budget and moving frequently, encourages throwaway purchases. After a few years of buying cheap Walmart or Value City furniture which only lasted a couple of years, I realized it made much more sense to shop at antique malls and consignment shops. The furniture cost about the same as something at Walmart, but it was thirty or fifty or eighty years old, and showed every sign of being able to last another fifty. Used furniture built for quality lasts longer and has more character; it is only less popular because it has a few scars.

So I started to shop for a couch. Despite being briefly tempted by a new settee on sale for $800 which we could not afford, I held out for the right piece. We wanted something appropriately sized, neatly shaped, with a little curve to it, and exposed wood legs if possible, but no exposed wood on the arms or back. We have birds, and were a little afraid of what they might do to the wooden back of a couch if left unattended. It was tough, but after so many throwaways, I thought the right couch was worth waiting for.

It took a long year to find our couch. It was at a little consignment shop for $300. It was just what we wanted. Because we no longer buy furniture new, we can’t choose our colors and fabrics, so our rule has been to buy solid colors only. No matter how nice the furniture, if you have six different bold patterns in a room, it looks exhausting. It was easier for me to make different fabrics work together if the colors were reliable solids. This couch was brown with a subtle pattern of tan and mauve flecks, but unless you were sitting on it, it looked solid brown. The shop even delivered. We had our couch.

Our couch has been with us through our move to our new house. It was where we cuddled to watch television when we had a television, and it is where we watch movies on the laptop when the mood strikes. Our guests sit here. My mom-in-law and I had our first heart to heart talk sitting on this couch.

I have dozed with my head on Az’s strong legs on this couch. I have lain on this couch very still, my head resting on a cushion, waiting out the nausea of pregnancy. I have lain on this couch reading a book, held above the head of the baby napping on my chest. Every day our children pull the cushions off it, stand or jump on it, and look eagerly out the window at the sights of the neighborhood.

This couch has been through a lot with us, and it has become even more worn and battered. A few scuffs on those legs from clumsiness with a vacuum, a few tears from an unobserved cockatiel, a smattering of dalmatian hair that has hung around long after the dog has gone, and the requisite sprinkling of crumbs or occasional peanut butter smoosh that is a part of a household with children.

But I love this old couch more than yesterday. If we successfully sell the house, we will auction most of our furniture. There is not room for it in my mother’s house, and intellectually I know it makes no sense to pay $90 a month for a year or two storing a roomful of furniture which we bought for a total of $900. But this couch which we have worn and torn, because we have worn and torn it, is home and haven, and it will hurt a little to see it go.

Today is our tenth anniversary, and you would think I would write a post about the growth of a marriage, the way we have aided and sustained each other over a decade, the many ways we have healed and grown in each other’s arms, and the common goals we still pursue. You would think I might write about the way I love this old man more than I loved the young one, scars included, the deep down gratitude I feel for the life he has shared with me and the life I have been privileged to share with him. You would think I would write about our romance, our family, and our blessings from a gracious God.

Or you might think I just did.

“Ah, you are beautiful, my lover - yes, you are lovely. Our couch, too, is verdant.” Song of Songs 1:16