Aging

I'm not really talking about my age.  Only my history.  My in-laws have a very old, well-worn ORANGE couch in their livingroom.  Seth tells me stories about doing flips on this thing.  I have seen it loaded with a lot of people, I mean A LOT of people. Why not replace the old couch?  I never asked this. I never really wondered, but this week I learned why.

For 8 years, we dragged a rather old, unbalanced upholstered rocker around. I have rocked, slept, nursed, and read to all of my children in that chair. Here is it:

We filled it with 2, then 3, and occasionally 4 kids and one parent.  We brought stacks of books to the chair and read, all squished together, until I was too tired.  I have fallen over in that chair with all four of my babies.  It squeakily rocked a very loud Lily, a sick Rebekah, a congested John, and a cuddly Sam.  I am kind of attached to the silly thing.  Alas, Seth told me I couldn't move it this time. This week, I gave my chair away.  Part of me wants to cry. My children are growing. My life, location, and demands are changing again. It is a bit like leaving a piece of me behind and attempting to replace it. It is just a chair, but it is more. I hope the ORANGE couch is always there, because it really is more than a couch. So much more.