Right after I got married, my husband took me to his family home for the very first time.
He was very proud to show off everything they had in their home.
The one thing that he was anxious for me to check out, was the handmade sofa that was in their living room. He told me to sit down and try it out, but I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to do that. The handmade sofa reminded me of a vampire’s coffin, without all the fancy work. I had to sit down and slide back so I could rest my head against the wall, because there was no back to the sofa. It was an oblong piece of wood, with a cushion on top. The handmade sofa was not just uncomfortable to sit on, but it was uncomfortable to lay on. The cushion was less than 3 in thick, and it was itchy. I asked him if there was some kind of storage underneath the seat, but he wasn’t sure. He told me his great-grandfather had made it and it had passed down through the generations. He said that when his parents died, he was the one who was going to inherit the handmade sofa. I looked at the sofa and I looked at him. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep that sofa or not, and if it was a necessity that I did keep it, I was thinking maybe I should get a divorce before it was too late. I wasn’t sure I could live in a house that had that sofa in it.