There is an old big sofa in the basement that my wife had been nagging me to dispose. Stubborn me, I won't let go of it. Aside from it being a quality furniture, there's just so much fond memories attached to that solid maple sofa that I am not quite ready to throw away. Our daughters practically grew up on it.
If that sofa could talk, it has a great story to tell. It will speak about the joy of watching three little sisters jumping up and down on its bouncy cushions, then falling asleep for an afternoon nap. It will enumerate the number of milk spills and dropped cereals that got embedded between the cushions. It will sing the nursery rhymes it heard repeatedly over the years.
Then, the old sofa would probably get emotional, and shed a tear like a father who misses the sweet childhood of his three grown daughters who have all left the nest.