Goodbye Old Friend

I recently said goodbye to an old friend.

As is customary when these things happen, it wasn’t easy.

My old friend was my couch.

Only my wife can say how long (my brain does not retain these kinds of numbers and facts) that couch had been a central part of my existence, but I would guess that I spent literally thousands of evenings puddling on that couch. So many TV shows, so many football games, so many movies…so much wasted time.

Yes, me and that couch were very well acquainted. In fact, there was a slight depression on the left-hand side that fit my butt exactly.

That kind of intimacy bespeaks the friendship we had.

But sooner or later, as with most things, there came the time when I had to part with my old friend.

It all began with a move to a new house and my wife’s desire to outfit it with new furniture.

After decades of making do with the same old broken-down stuff, we had a justifiable opportunity to splurge and get some new stuff.

Sadly, that meant “Old Whitey” had to go.

Why my wife ever decided to buy a white couch – in retrospect – is beyond me. With two destructive boys and a succession of messy indoor pets, that couch was doomed.

At least doomed to slowly becoming grottier and grottier with every spill and muddy paw print that didn’t get immediately steam cleaned.

But it was OK. We didn’t entertain that much, and the people who did visit us could immediately understand why the couch was slowly decomposing.

Time marches on, though, and eventually – with the move – came the day I had to say so long to Old Whitey.

I had tried to find a new home for my old friend, but no one was interested. Thrift shops, Salvation Army – no one.

So there was only one thing left to do: Load it up in my Subaru and haul it to The Last Roundup – i.e., the landfill.

That drive was a sad one, as we headed to Old Whitey’s Final Resting Place.

It reminded me of the day a few months earlier when I was unloading some trash at the landfill and noticed a beautiful leather armchair sitting atop a pile of garbage.

The juxtaposition was jarring.

I thought: “Why would anyone throw away such a beautiful chair with so many potential years of comfort left in it?”

For a moment, I considered grabbing it.

But landfill policy is strict: Nothing may be picked up and taken away -- only dropped off and forgotten.

So when I brought my beloved old couch to the landfill, I almost felt…guilty.

True, my couch was in far worse shape than that leather chair. But surely there was someone in the world who could use it.

But Life doesn’t always work out that way. I had tried and failed to find it another home. I could have kept trying, but homeowner rules said I couldn’t just let my couch rot indefinitely in my carport.

So, it was – at last -- truly and finally…goodbye.

With as much reverence as I could muster, I pulled Old Whitey out of my car and deposited it on the ground. Then I tossed all of its pillows and pads upon it, my lower lip quivering.

Looking back in my rearview mirror as I drove away, I saw the seagulls swooping and diving above the colorful trash heaps creeping up on Old Whitey.

Soon, he would be simply another piece of that slowly-rising mountain of crap…

Now, I’m not sure there is a moral or lesson attached to this tale.

If there is, it’s just that nothing in Life is permanent, and that we must accept the changes that inevitably come to all of us.

And, oh yes, I really love my new couch.