Do you pay attention to the furniture you see on the sides of the highways? I first started noting couch cushions, wondering why the people with the couch didn’t come back to get it. I realized that the world (or at least Texas) must be filled with couches missing a cushion. How uncomfortable that must be, springs popping up in less-than-desirable locations.

But because I am who I am, I started to feel sorry for the cushions. No one came back for them. Cushions all alone in this world actually made me sad.

Since then, I have noticed more than just cushions. Recliners, dining room table chairs, recliners, mattresses, and more recliners. Granted 95% of my commute to work is highway, my probability for seeing these things is higher than if I was rounding through residential areas.

But today. Today I saw the whole sofa fly off a truck. It broke into several pieces; I could understand if they didn’t return for it. What use would pieces of a couch serve? My sadness for that couch instantly set in. Abandoned, forced to watch the world go by, helpless, alone.

The sadness then washed away as my truth broke on the shore. My people would never abandon me, leave me to watch the world go by, helpless and alone. My wife and kids would come back for me regardless how broken I was. I know this because they have.

The tide seems to wash people into my life that don’t know the safety in knowing your people will come back to you and those ungrateful for the calm that brings. And that fills me with sadness. I wish they could know my gratitude, my truth.

 I’m never going to be the sad sofa.