It was our first piece of new-to-us furniture. Fred's parents bought it for us as a housewarming/Christmas/welcome to the USA gift when we moved into our first apartment. From there, it came with us when we moved to the 3rd floor of a high-rise, and to our next place, when we finally left university housing behind and found us a funky apartment in an old house in Fort Sanders where we lived for three years. Everyone raved about that couch. It was so comfortable. It hosted Superbowl parties, overnight guests and provided welcome relief to my heavily pregnant self.
We brought it with us to our first house, where we chose paint colors that complemented the warm tones in the plaid pattern of our beloved couch (yeah, I read too many interior design books).
Even our big ol' dog, Gus, matched perfectly.
Cy napped exclusively on the couch for several months as a newborn, and we spent many hours cuddled up, reading together. We took the couch with us when we moved to our second house. And when Ruby came along, there were more naps.
And more snacks.
After several years, I got bored with our beloved couch. It looked old, and tired. I didn't like the plaid design anymore. It didn't match my vision of my dream home. But instead of getting a new couch, we had another baby.
It's never a good idea to get new furniture when there's a baby in the house. Especially when the baby is the most spitting up baby ever in the history of spitting up babies. So we hung on to the beloved couch, where it became the scene of more lounging.
And more loving.
Where our babies grew.
Chilled out with each other.
Enjoyed bedtime stories.
And got chatty.
Goodbye old couch. You might be old, and ugly, but you served us well. We'll miss you.