Mike and I are the proud owners of the blue, basket-weave couch that I used to fight to sit on during church services in my youth. I remember being ecstatic when we got to a service first, because claiming the couch was truly a prize. Let’s just say I remember the couch back when I was in my early teens, and I am now 33. This is a well-worn couch.
My dad was a mentor and friends with the man who married us. After the wedding, this man and his lovely wife heard we were in need of a functional couch and graced us with it. While we are grateful for the couch, it is not meant for two people to lay on, or even sit very close together. Comfort is not its mainstay.
Inevitably, one of us ends up in the chair, and one on the couch. However, today I was given a foot rub while Mike and I sat on the couch and talked like we did when we were first dating. Each one of us had at least a couple parts of our body that were uncomfortable, but it was worth braving a little discomfort to be so close. We let the sunlight grow dim in the room, until shadows played on the floor and walls. We remembered our dreams as children, and our dreams for the future. We talked about how we want to raise our kids and what types of things we wanted to keep in and out of their lives.