A large turquoise colored sectional with light blue walls behind it. There’s a small round coffee table in front of the couch, un-hung pictures on one side of it, and a pile of opened boxes on the other side.

After reading Nicole C. Kear’s sad and funny essay, “What I Learned About the Pandemic When My Kid Got Trapped in a Couch,” I started thinking about what my couch has meant to me during the pandemic.

I moved in the middle of the pandemic, last June. I hadn’t planned to move, but I was living in a faculty apartment in a dorm and that gig was ending in a year. The students were forced to move out, and increasingly, it was just my…