**Note: I decided to participate in this week’s The Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge: And Now for Something Completely Different. Since I usually write journal entry style, I decided to write a letter, as suggested in the challenge.**
Dear my beloved Sofa darling,
I know you’re going to think me a coward for telling you this way, but I just couldn’t bare the thought of the look on your face. Mommy has to leave, and she doesn’t know when she’s coming back. I want you to know that I love you very much and that nothing will ever change that, but I can no longer take care of you.
Please, don’t be blue. Auntie April will treat you well, like one of her own – no, better than her own. She can offer you the loving home that you need to be a healthy and happy sofa. I know you want to come with me, but it’s just not possible. Where Mommy’s going, she can bring little more than the clothes on her back. The Appalachian Trail is not a safe place for a precious sofa like you (and you are precious to me, so precious). If anything were to happen to you, I’d never forgive myself. I know it feels like I’m deserting you, but I pray that you’ll understand one day.
I know this couldn’t come at a worse time, what with you recently finding out that you were adopted. And it hurts my heart that I didn’t tell you first. When you told me that you’ve always felt like a big fish (really big fish) in our little pond of an apartment, I could tell you were baiting me, that you knew and wanted me to admit it. And I could see the resentment in your eyes. But don’t you see? I chose you! That’s always been the truth, my lucky lucky truth. There were so many couches, and I had the great fortune to pick you.
And haven’t I proved myself over the years? I certainly have never neglected you. I spend hours at a time on a daily basis showing how much I love you. Even though I’m a working mom, we eat dinner together regularly. And when the weather gets you feeling bluer than usual, I work from home just so that you’re not alone. Let’s not forget the countless weekends where we just hang around in our pajamas cuddling. Actions speak louder than words, right? Doesn’t that count for something?
Seeing as this is the last chance I’ll have to talk to you for a while, there are a few things that I want to tell you.
First, never let anybody make you believe that you’re fat. You’re not fat; you’re big-boned. You couldn’t take up less space if you tried; you were just made that way. And I know you’ve always felt doughy, but that makes for the best hugs! Never let anybody tell you different. They’re just jealous.
Second, you are not a doormat. If you don’t stand up for yourself, people will walk all over you (shoes and all). So remember to always sit up straight and walk tall. Be proud of what you are.
Third, know that there are so many people in this world that love and care about you. How many people have visited over the years and ended up spending more time with you than with me? You probably lost count like I did, didn’t you? There are just too many!
As much as this is a bittersweet goodbye, I know I’m leaving you in good hands. If I were selfish, I’d lock you away in a tower to be forever mine. But I believe in the old adage, “If you love something, let it go,” and I know that you’ll flourish. I swear I’ll visit when I can. And I promise I’ll write soon!
Meandering on (with love),