Broken Couch. Photo by Katelyn Avery.

Furniture can die. While it may not fit the bill of a living creature, a couch can be full of life. Stories are trapped between the cushions, but you can’t find them as easily as lost coins. I’m not in love with this material possession, but it is hard to say goodbye.

So many memories were made on this couch. Many of them include visits from my cousin Ashley, when she was 2, and my twin sister and I were 6. We took photos with her on this couch and watched TV together. Eventually my Mom placed a “kid” couch in front of the adult version. The “kid” couch being an inflatable one, in the same color.  Nevertheless this couch has always held a spot in the living room.

Broken Couch. Photo by Katelyn Avery.

The kitchen also extended to this couch. The distance between the living room and kitchen is just inches, so there was some overlap. As a child I enjoyed many pizza dinners upon my red oasis. Even though I don’t like to admit it, this tradition continued into adulthood. It’s America, and sometimes I enjoy food with the maturity of a five year old. Just another great experience with the wonderful, yet soon to be gone couch.

Aging isn’t an act that takes pity on furniture. While my family and I put a lot of visiting hours in with this couch one small problem can destroy it. Out of our lives it will go. If only this couch was like a human. A cast could fix small injuries.

The middle seat now makes a cracking noise if you sit on it the wrong way. We once had a neighbor over who sat down before we could say anything. It was brutal to deal with all the anticipation. Would it break? Would it make a noise? Thankfully nothing happened, and no one had to explain that my family is lazy. Well, lazy with our broken furniture.

Now that some of the legs of the couch have fallen it’s time to say goodbye. Two curved support structures cracked, and now are only partially attached to the couch. We have a spare couch stored away, but part of me wishes the red couch could stay.

Maybe it’s my relationship  with nostalgia. I enjoy living with the couch that has always been part of the living room. Even if it means being careful when I sit, and taping up the torn underside of the middle cushion. I also had to tape up a “free” wire that created the hole in the first place. However that bit or work is what made me realize I’m not dating nostalgia, were just friends. Changes are ok.

I’m ready to add some new memories in my life. I would like to free the living room from part of its past, because I’m always ready for new things.

Goodbye broken red couch. You were a nice part of my life, and you’ll always be part of my memories, but it’s your time to go.

– Katelyn Avery

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