Just an old futon...

Yesterday I sold a futon that has been in my possession for eight years. It was a gift from my parents back when I was an undergraduate - a nice solid poplar frame futon with a thick mattress. With the move to my new place in Birmingham (Phase 3 of the move out of Mississippi, Phase 1 of the move to Alabama) in full swing, I realized that I would not be able to keep the futon. For the past year, it has been sitting in my studio/guest room - collecting dust, and after tomorrow, I will no longer be renting a two bedroom townhouse; I will have downsized to a one bedroom flat. The townhouse was really too much space for me, so I was happy with my decision to downsize.

Downsizing, however, means change. There is not enough room at my new place for the futon, so I had to sell it. I was okay with my decision at first, but as time drew on and I had no takers, I started to wonder if this futon were destined to travel with me to Birmingham. I stated to consider how I would work it into my life. After all, it's just an old futon...

"I could make it fit," I thought. After all, Travis and I had left enough space on the moving van just in case it didn't sell. We could make it fit; I could have it in my living room in the new place. It might be tight, but I would find a way. That's when I really started thinking about the futon. It had been in my life for eight years; we shared quite a few memories together.

I kissed my first boyfriend on that futon - the first boy I ever kissed. I was twenty. It was a magical Autumn evening. He had curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and a soft voice. Later I would regret ever dating him, be furious with him, finally forgive him, and take with me great lesson. I knew I was gay; I had known for a long time, but nothing quite felt as right as that first kiss. Kissing girls never felt that way. It was special, different, and life affirming. The futon shared that moment with me.

A year or so later, when a boy would truly break my heart, that futon was there too. I had fallen in love, but had fallen in love with someone who would never love me back. After the phone call that ended what I naively thought would last forever, I sat on that futon staring at a cinder block wall in a cold dormitory with cold florescent lighting. I had given him so much of my myself, and for what purpose? Was it worth it to ache for him? Worth it or not, I couldn't go back. The futon shared that moment with me.

After undergrad, I left the futon with my parents while work took me to Maryland, Washington, DC, Virginia, and finally Detroit. After re-covering it (someone had spilled hair dye on it back in undergrad - stupid Bree), they placed it in their sitting room, and every Christmas Eve my Dad and I would sit on that futon watching my nieces, brothers, and sisters-in-law open their gifts. Christmas used to be a magical time for me. A time where everything seemed right with the world. For several years, the futon shared those moments with me.

My father got very sick in 2006, and almost died. While he was recovering, it was very hard for him to share a bed with mom, and he had a constant stream of visitors. He spent much time on that futon: sleeping, sitting, recovering. It was easier than the bed, and could fold into a couch for company. It was the perfect solution. I was and still am thankful for the futon in that moment.

When I moved to Mississippi, I had great plans for the futon. It was going to be the couch in my studio - one where I could sit and work, and not worry if paint spilled, or if something got on the cover. After all, it was just an old futon...

I never had a chance to assemble my studio. Work kept me too busy, but that futon sat there in that room working nonetheless. It held a bunch of boxes for me - art supplies and various things that I didn't always need. It served as a bed for guests. They said it slept well.

Just an old futon. A futon that I shared so many memories with. A call came, and it quickly sold. It was/is in great shape. It was sad watching it leave, but like all things - it could only be with me for a season. The memories of it, however, I will take with me for a lifetime. I just hope the new family realizes what a gem they have purchased as they share their moments with it as well. Thank you futon; you'll be missed.