Our Old Couch

The two of us spent that great summer day filled with activity, staying to your perfect agenda. So we weren't expecting to stumble across the most beautiful couch at our mandatory thrifting stop. Yet there she was. A beautiful butter yellow couch with subtle pinstripes. She was comfy, small, and reminded me of the furniture my British neighbor had in her house while I was growing up.

Out of some sort of magic, it was half off day at the store which made our saying yes to this couch incredibly easy. Upon more thorough inspection the two of us discovered that while being perfect and comfortable, she also pulled out to make a bed. This yellow couch was destined for greatness, and while it being $100 should have scared us off, we saw the beauty in our yellow couch and welcomed her with open arms. 

Once she was in our apartment it felt like everything had clicked. The white walls softened by the glow of our couch in the sun, and the rays of light from the disco balls seemed to glow brighter. Our yellow couch carried us through the rest of our time in our wonderful home that we shared. The couch saw us through our hardest days, and was with us on the best ones too.

A sleepover in the living room for the two of us, or a surprise overnight guest, each time someone wanted to stay over there was a place for them with our couch. On the couch we crocheted, painted, paper mached, drew, wrote, collaged, painted our nails, sculpted and crafted just about any and everything. Coming home to our perfect yellow couch meant there was always space for anything.

I'm grateful for every person who enjoyed our couch, on late nights over good conversation, or for short stints during our parties. Our home was a home because of the love, but the couch made the love just that much more perfect. I miss the yellow couch in the house we used to share. But I'm glad we got to have her when we did.