With a Couch, a Map, and My Brother’s Love,
The Old Couch
I still remember the day I got rid of the old couch—an autumn morning with a cool breeze. My husband, Bryce, had always delayed getting rid of it, despite my constant requests. The couch was a disaster—once a soft blue, now a moldy gray-green with thin cushions and a musty smell. It had become unbearable, so I finally called a hauling service. “Are you certain this is the only item, ma’am?” they asked. “Yes, just this,” I replied, feeling both victorious and guilty as it was taken away.
Bryce’s Reaction
When Bryce came home that evening, he was horrified. “Where’s the couch?” he asked, his voice full of panic. “I really hope you didn’t toss it away.” I was confused—why was he so upset about a broken-down couch? He insisted, “We need to find it, like, right now.” I followed him as he rushed to the landfill, where he frantically searched until he found the couch, digging through it to retrieve a crumpled map.
A Hidden Memory
The map, drawn by Bryce and his brother Leo, revealed a childhood memory. Bryce explained, “Leo and I were inseparable… until he died in a fall.” The couch, he revealed, held memories of their games, their secret plans, and the day Leo passed away. He had kept the map hidden in the couch as a way of holding on to his brother.
The Painful Truth
Bryce had never shared this with me before. His attachment to the couch made sense now—“I just couldn’t stand the thought of losing it,” he said. His sorrow was profound, and I understood then that the couch was more than just furniture. It was a piece of his past, one he hadn’t been able to let go of.
