Matronal Dignity

A home unsuitable to children, my grandparents’ antique-filled house inspired both awe and fear. With exceptions for holidays, their living room, with held the Gold Couch, was entirely off-limits. During visits, Daddy would walk cautiously, still wary from his childhood. Following his lead, we children sat quietly at his feet. Aunt Loren, though, would sluggishly plop herself down beside Grandma, the only one worthy of a seat on the Gold Couch. We would watch her transgression, wide-eyed, as we silently avowed to never deem ourselves deserving of that seat, that Gold couch we consider synonymous with the utmost matronal dignity.