Couch Potato Jessica Dolnick

When I was young, my family owned a beat-up old couch. The couch was nothing out of the ordinary: it was a simple floral-print loveseat that had somehow survived the wear and tear that only a toddler can provide. The time came, however, when my parents realized that the family room needed a full-scale furniture upgrade. The couch had to go. Despite the legitimacy of their concerns about the worn appearance of the family room, I resented their choice to upgrade and alter the furniture set that I had grown to love and cherish. Although the entire room was about to be changed, the couch was the one piece of furniture I was most adamant about keeping. The couch was ideal in my eyes. It was broken in just enough to jump on, and its floral print was perfect for hiding juice and food stains. Looking back, my parents were right to replace the couch. It was full of holes, and there were so many stains that the floral print could no longer hide the fact that the couch had been misused. I now realize, however, that it was not the replacing of the couch that upset me so, but the fact that my life was being altered in some way. In other words, I was experiencing change.

In my earlier years, although I was unaware of it, I was afraid of...