Homage To A Green Couch

A visit with Olivia is simply too good not to share. We had lunch at coffee fusion on Monday and then came home to my house to do our green couch thing. That means we sit at opposite ends with our feet meeting in the middle and talk about everything. We always laugh and sometimes we cry. It can get pretty deep and it can become as silly as all get out. Mostly the silly one is me. Livvy brings out the frivolous, let it all go side of me. That old bumble-butt angel... Because yes, I seem to be something of an angel to my oldest granddaughter... As she is to me...

The green couch goes way back, though it has moved around my studio. Wherever it lands becomes the "take it easy" part of the studio. The living room, perhaps... I don't have a real one. It was purchased for me to spend recovery time on after a surgery. Olivia's mother, my daughter, Moira, helped to pick it out. In the beginning, it looked out over the deck and into the woods. I wrote poems about birds, reclining on that couch. And a few years later it held me as I wrote a novel about a young dancer who went to Paris to heal from a traumatic event. The green couch has taken me to far off and marvelous places, but has always delivered me safely back home. What makes of an aged green couch a safe haven? Olivia might have the answer.

The extra is of Olivia pondering her world.