Letting Go - Furniture

Sometimes you get used to things in such a way that they stop existing. They exist solely to fulfill their purpose in your life. To accomodate your needs and desires. I wonder how they would feel if they had a life of their own? Possibly like a neglected wife, an abandoned child or a patient God, who waits endlessly for one second of our time.

Three years! That piece of furniture has seen the best and worst of me. It holds stories that I will never relive, others that I have probably forgotten and many that only I will remember. When the load of life became too heavy to bare, I laid it in its firmness. Knowing that it would absorb all of it before I had to face another day. In its solitude I dared to dream and found the courage to write for endless hours. On many ocassions its warmth allowed me to experience pleasures that overshadowed my fear of darkness. Many evenings I slept in firm and gentle arms. But there were those nights when the coldness of its cushion threatened to break my bones.

I'm not sure when I stopped noticing its presence, but I did. It may have been the night it held me gently, cautious of not letting me fall into a deep void. It was the only place where I couldn't fall part. The perfect place to speak with God, even when words remained silent. It heard me laugh and saw me cry. It heard me pray and saw me dream. It has been faithful to my needs. And yet, I stopped appreciating it.

Which makes me ask myself, is it in our nature to stop appreciating the constant and stagnant? Do we ever stop chasing what is running away from us? Do we ever learn to appreciate the luxuries that have become common in our space?