My sister got a car when she graduated, so I figured my chances were pretty good.
She gave me her necklace.
She also helped me pay for my trip to South Africa that summer.
She also bought me a couch for my new house.
My mom is very, very good to me.
A red love seat from the Opportunity Shop in Santa Barbara, second hand. It went into our house downtown. Living like grown ups and acting like children, drinking too much, staying up too late, still getting used to the idea of paying our own bills.
Later, it moved into my apartment, the first place I ever lived without roommates.
My glorious, legendary apartment. Two-bedrooms, nice neighborhood, downtown Santa Barbara, off-street parking, ocean views, $500/month. I know. I KNOW. I don't know why I moved either. I KNOW.
When I started grad school and left Santa Barbara, it went into my old bedroom at my parents' house. It was a big fight to get it in there; the upstairs bedrooms have narrow, non-standard doorways.
It didn't go to Chico with me. I moved to Chico alluva sudden, in the midst of a hormonal pregnant temper fit. And the couch was too hard to move. And I was too mad. And insane.
It stayed in my room when my room became Duncan's room, James' room.
Still my love seat though.
When I moved back to SC, when I moved out of my parents' house, then it came with me. Perfect for my little one bedroom apartment with my baby in the living room.
Small and perfect.
It's mine again.
It's little, but boys still manage to sleep on it.
It's little, but there's still room enough for friends.
It's a good little couch.
This post was inspired by this exercise, though I didn't follow the directions exactly.