Well, it's a done deal.

My living room is bare. The furniture I've hated for the past 7 years, gone ... And I couldn't be any happier.

KC will be surprised when she comes home. I can already see her standing there with hands on hips, a shocked expression.

"Mom! Where is our furniture?", she will shout, looking frantically about the room.

"Gone." I'll say. "I gave it away."

For a moment she will be mute, until the realization hits her.

"Gave it away! How could you give all our furniture away?"

Laughing and smiling, I'll grab her hands in mine and twirl her about the empty living room, until we're both breathless and about to fall down.

I've never liked it, I'll tell her without explaining my real reason why.

She doesn't need to know, that it was the very last object left in our house that reminded me of her father. The couch and love seat he couldn't wait to have, the one he picked out himself, the one I ended up paying for when he walked out.

She doesn't need to know, how happy it makes me feel to have seen the last of that green and tan albatross, or that I would gladly sit on the floor for a million years to be rid of it.

I'll tell her that we've done a good deed, giving our furniture away to someone who really needed a helping hand and the look of joy on their faces as they drove off, furniture secured snugly to the back of their pick up truck. I'll tell her how good it felt to know that they really appreciated the gift, as much as I did the giving.

She's probably too young to understand. She'll think she has a crazy person for a mother, one who gives furniture away at random without having an immediate replacement for it. Maybe she'll be right, I can barely explain it myself.

I feel free and at home, for the first time, in a long time.