The End of an Era

Posted on November 14, 2008
Filed Under Little Sabreen | 1 Comment

When my sister and I were little, our family had this couch.
It was hideous and old fashioned, but it was the couch that we grew up on.
It was the couch we watched “Perfect Strangers” and “Full House” on.
It was the couch we used as the extra boost to practice our back walkovers.
It was the couch we crashed on after our birthday parties — where we’d kill like nine boxes of pizza, six pieces of chocolate cake and enough Bazooka bubble gum to make your jaw swell.

And, it was the only couch we were allowed to jump on.

My dad bought it about a hundred years ago because it was just over six feet long – and that was a rare length to find back then. He’s a tall man and it was good for his afternoon naps on the weekends.

That couch was loyal to our family, but especially to my dad.
It once aided him in one of the greatest games of Hide-and-Seek our family ever played.

When my sister and I were little, and my dad got home from work, the first thing we would do was hide. As we heard the garage door open and saw his car pull into the driveway, we would scatter like a herd of gazelle that caught scent of a lioness on the prowl.

By the time his key was in the door, we were holding our breath (and our pee) sitting quietly in our respective hiding places.
My sister found a new place to hide each day, but as a child, I wasn’t big on change, so my go-to place was the hamper.
And because this is what dad’s do, my dad would always pretend he couldn’t find me.

Then one day, as my sister and I hid, my dad didn’t come looking for us. We knew he was home from work because we saw his car and heard him come in. We waited and waited until my mom came and found us.
“He’s hiding today!” she said.
And suddenly the hunted became the hunters.

We searched for what felt like hours and even my mom got in on it.
We couldn’t find him. She couldn’t find him. Where the hell was he?

Finally, exhausted and perplexed, we went into the basement and sat on the couch.
All of a sudden, my mom leapt to her feet and we heard my dad erupt in laughter.
HE WAS HIDING ON THE COUCH.
You might be thinking that my dad’s skin color matches that of an out-dated, upholstered sofa from the ‘70s, which is funny, but not exactly the case.

He pulled the cushions forward about six inches and squeeze himself behind them. We looked in the basement so many times, but he was lying so flat, and the cushions had been moved so slightly, that no one thought to look more carefully.

It was a damn good spot and no one ever found a better place to hide.
The next day, I was back in the hamper.

As we got older, the couch got older too.
My mom tried many, many times to donate, or junk it, in order to re-furnish our basement.
But my sister and I weren’t having it.
Each time we caught word of our mom’s vicious scheme to ruin our lives, we would scream and holler and cry and ask WHY DO YOU HATE US?!?!
And each time we got to keep our beloved couch.

When The Boss and I moved into our place, my childhood sofa was sitting in the basement, just where it belonged.
But over the past few months, its torn and tattered body started to emit an uncanny odor, and we were pretty sure it had been housing poisonous Scolopendra centipedes that we find in our basement every few weeks, under its old rusted springs.
So we started talking about taking it to the dump.
I knew it had to go, but a little part of me wished MTV had done a show called “Pimp My Sofa.”
I would have applied.

The Boss called AAA Trash and Recycling to schedule a pick up.
Then last night, he and his cousin rolled up their sleeves and headed for the basement.
As they brought my childhood sofa up the stairs, it was mixed emotions for me. I took a ton of pictures to e-mail to my sister and my dad, and in a way I was happy to see the old guy finally put to rest.

It took minutes to carry a lifetime of memories outside to be placed under the streetlights. As they dusted off their hands and headed back into the house, I hung outside for a few more minutes to say my final goodbye.   

It was a cold and misty night but all the warm memories from my childhood came rushing back.
And my old couch looked like he was at peace. 

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