Well seated

Sofas are the most transient among furnishings. Some sturdy stuff has followed me since leaving home, mostly items of solid wood that refuse to die. Not sofas. I’ve had ’em and replaced them like takeout containers that endure only as long as useful.

Not long. But each one held an occupant of import.

The herculon monolith my parents bought on sale at Sears, Roebuck & Co. was stunned to find itself in the Victorian parlor of my first home. But on its itchy cushions our newborn son showed off his lifelong ability to make people laugh.

There was a pair of green checkered loveseats in the new suburban home where we moved. They were like chubby-cheeked cherubs and looked ridiculous. But my Mom visited on Friday afternoons and crocheted little pretties as she sat there pretending she was a country gal.

When the chevron pink sleeper sofa and loveseat combo arrived, I was pleased to have sofas akin to the current style: like teased hair and outlandish should pads. They were very feminine in an aggressive way and nobody sat on them. But my mother-in-law adored sleeping on the pull-out bed and I was delighted she was delighted.

The good sense to buy classic inspired purchase of a navy blue sectional that dominated the living room like a shoreline. Too big of course. But our son’s friends fit on it like the parliment of a small country. They hid behind it, made forts of its cushions, generally recycled it for their own joy.

Leather was the subsequent choice and whatever possessed us to install a grey-brown double recliner with a table in its tummy is beyond me. This elephant in the room, however, was the place I recovered from surgery, my husband recovered from surgery and our son recovered from surgery. Not all at once of course but it was a good sofa.

We next selected a brown leather sofa and loveseat that was overstuffed and looked like a daddy bear with his well-fed cub. This set was favored by my aging Dad who sunk into it and told stories. It was his favorite color, brown, which tells you a lot about my Dad.

We bought a cream leather set with sexy legs to stage the home we sold when we moved to our Chicago condo-home. Nobody sat on it. Strangers seemed to like it.

We stuck with leather. Carmel this time in our city abode. This is a succinct set. Two loveseats scaled down to fit the space. To date, guests talk to each other there. They can’t do much else.



About Mrs. Fitz

Hello! I'm Michele Fitzpatrick, a Chicago writer. Like our town, a work in progress. As a journalist, teacher and writing coach I think all of us live our stories and sharing them creates moments that remind us we're connected. And that is enough.
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