An Ode to My Couch

I saw you in my head before I ever set eyes on you. I knew exactly how you should look–red, but not fire engine red; long, but not abnormally so; deep, but not so much that you wouldn’t fit through our door–but for weeks I couldn’t find you. I found ones that wanted to be you, but they were made of the microfiber that neither Jeff nor I liked, or they were the wrong color red, or they were so overstuffed that you couldn’t sit on them without sliding off. I almost gave up hope. I almost settled.

But then…then I walked through the door of Bassett Furniture and there you were. Cushions that were just the right compromise of soft and firm. Pillows that could be taken off but stayed put when you wanted them to. Deep brown legs. And the perfect red color. It was love at first sight. But you refused to go home with me that first night. Instead I had to wait eight long weeks for you, but when you arrived, I realized the wait was worth it. You completed my room.

And now, 3.5 years later, you are still perfect. When I’m tired and want to do nothing but veg out, you welcome me into your embrace, and encourage me to relax, read a book, watch some TV. You don’t tell me that I should be productive or make me feel guilty for my pleasures. You’ve been a surrogate all those weeks when Jeff has been gone in Sweden, providing a cozy alternative to the emptiness of the bed. You’ve opened yourself to friends and family, even allowing my brother to call you his bed for an entire summer. You’ve weathered spills and crumbs without complaint. I couldn’t ask anything more of you. You’ve never once let me down.

Oh couch, what will I do without you? To what will I turn after a long, tiring day? The communal hostel couch—icky with god knows what—can never take your place. The worn hotel bed can never be an adequate replacement. Oh couch, how I will miss you. But I’ll survive, knowing you’ll be there when I return, as comfy and embracing as ever. On the hardest of days, I’ll think of you waiting for me at home, and that alone will get me through.

This is the first in an occasional series titled “An Ode to…” in which we will reflect on things we will miss while we are traveling.