Bye, Bye Blues.

I want to roll around on it naked. 

That’s right. Naked.

Because I am that enraptured. And because if I don’t do it now, I will have missed my window of opportunity to truly know what it feels like to own a piece of living room furniture that is not stained and soiled with the remnants of the school day, traces of popcorn and the general wear and tear of life with two children. And as far as I’m concerned, I’ve earned the right to a moment of rolling around in microfiber ecstasy.

It’s been 12 years since a new couch entered our happy little home. And twelve years ago there was a husband but no kids, two mature dogs not yet joined by a third, and an entirely modern home of our own design. The cerulean blue microfiber sectional worked.  

And then life happened.

Two babies. A new dog. A career that went into light speed. A new, not-modern house. Suddenly sticky fruit chews and bowls of ice cream became habits of comfort in the comfort of the big blue couch. Little feet walked along the back and jumped from side to side. Dogs claimed their corners and wine stains left marks from the exhaustion of it all.

And then death happened.

The couch that had played a central role in the laughter and love that filled our lives became an unwelcome symbol of how much had changed. I watched as firemen I did not know sat beside my children and kept them calm as I fell apart, and as the thin blue line joined me on it. I sat on it numb and empty, holding his phone and watching from another place as my fingers dialed the numbers that would force me to say the words out loud.

And with every day and every night I grew to despise the blue couch that had been hard won and that had meant so much more.

Night after night I sat alone late in the night watching life continue on the other side of a computer screen while mine vanished into the big blue yonder. And while I struggled to breathe, the couch captured the traces of a life unhinged. Popcorn and crackers. Wrappers and Lego bricks. Princess shoes and water marks.

And wine stains from the exhaustion of it all.

I loathed it. But letting the couch go was like a marriage slowly unraveling, and I traveled the seven stages on it as I searched for what I wanted. And as my mind and body re-entered the world, I tested relationships with sectionals and sofas, chaise lounges and cozy chairs until I found it.

Solid and strong. Soft and welcoming. And the color of steel.

Just like the will of the naked woman rolling around on it.