MEMORY -
Walking into Peter's room, I remember his beige leather couch. I would plop onto the over sized cushions and sink into a leather hug of comfort. I loved that couch. For Peter, it was more than just a couch ..... it was a place of conversation. He would sit ever so comfortably in his computer chair and invite visitors to sit across from him on his couch. On some occasions, I felt similar to the way a patient does while visiting her shrink. I asked questions, he had the answers. The last conversation we had on that couch, was the first time I saw him after he was diagnosed with the worse news ever.
He seemed tired and depressed but extremely happy to see me. I took the cushion next to him, and joined in on watching the movie "Enchanted". He asked me if I had see it. Before I could answer "yes", he grabbed my hand and held it tightly. It hit me then, he didn't want awkward conversation, he wanted physical contact. What do you say to someone who has just been told they only have a matter of weeks to live? Nothing at all. As much as I wanted to run my mouth and tell him how much I'm going to miss him, I could feel in my heart, he already knew.
APPLICATION -
I was given Peter's couch late last year. It sits in our movie loft - the only appropriate space for a piece of furniture that seated the movie king himself. Erik and I sat across from it this evening while watching a Red Box rental. It stole my attention during the movie and showed me a movie reel of it's own. Memory after memory came into clear focus as if I was watching a Blu-ray disc of my past.
REFLECTION -
Last Fall, the couch had taken on a new purpose. Once a couch of many words, now a place of silent company. This fall, it remains in silence being the perfect place for Pete and I to continue our conversations. It's still a couch of conversation, only now there is no need for words.
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