The Purple Couch ...

I wrote this post last night before my final final. But wisely did not post it without some daylight editing. I should really not be allowed to communicate after 11 p.m., when my brain officially stops functioning ...

It's 12:01 a.m. and I have a final today (which still feels like tomorrow) and I should really be either studying or sleeping. But I cannot stop thinking about the purple inflatable couch from my freshman dorm. The one we used to sled down the hill at the law school. The one under the ceiling of theories (near the door of happy thoughts and the quote wall). I might be the only person to ever write an entire personal essay about an inflatable couch (that I did not even own). And I miss it tonight.


I have a really great red leather sofa now, with matching curtains and adorable pillows. It makes me think of my mom, who found it on sale, and my dad, who covered it with tarps in the back of his truck for our 2,000-mile adventure. It makes me think of the Downington House and the mystery of the disappearing date. And this week, it makes me think of the purple couch. I am not sure why they suddenly connected. Maybe when I curled up there to talk to K., telling her my story and listening to her wise words and wishing we could be there together. Or when I did the same with J. and L. Or when I read all of the yellow notes in my jar on the window sill, my very own happy door and quote wall (no more theories for me, thank you very much, I am pretty sure I have already disproved all of ours), when I really needed to remember sledding on the purple couch, and laying on the floor with the lights off, listening to the same song for the 11th time, and laughing uncontrollably in the hallway, again ...