It is ridiculously ostentatious.And I don’t care one bit. It’s extravagant. And I don’t care one bit. Okay, maybe I do a little bit. I still sigh every time I see it in our living room. It’s an oh my goodness kind of sigh. It was a Christmas gift in lieu of a vacation or tickets to any of the non existent events in our pandemic times. It makes my book loving, hermit life craving, comfy cozy seeking heart sing. It was all I ever wished for: A lovesac. If you know, you know. If you don’t, then think of the softest cocoon you can sink into with a blanket that has FOOT POCKETS while resting your feet on the SQUATOMMON. I can’t make this stuff up.
So yeah, it is huge and takes up a lot of space but it’s the best spot to do some reading and some watching of tv and some napping. Especially the napping. But that is not even the best part. The best part of this addition to our house is the chatting. You see, this mecca of comfort not only calls to me, it calls to my mirror image hermit eleven year old practically an adult only child daughter. She comes out of her hole in the office where she lives talking to friends and working on her art and cultivating her island (again, if you know, you know). And when she heads down she doesn’t mind at all coming to hang with me on the softest of soft spots.
Which leads to some of my most favorite moments of this year. I am getting to know my daughter as she navigates this adolescent disaster that is becoming a teenager. This daughter who is so much like me and yet has shattered that mirror image becoming her own amazing person. We talk honestly, we share snarkyness, we talk about friends, we tell stories, we ask questions, we uncover worries. We chat and giggle and sometimes tear up and almost always tease. We build up a respectful repertoire of inside jokes. We kind of drive her dad insane. It is glorious. It is at times ridiculously ostentatious and it grows my heart each and every time it happens.