Yellow Couch
by Mandy Goodwin-Noa, LCSW
I have sat on many couches. Like the kitchen table, couches are the gathering spaces. They carry the scars of movement, the patterns of generations, and the smells of home. Couches bury conversations into their fibers that release into the dreams of an afternoon nap. I miss sitting on couches–well, on the couches of families I visit.
Perhaps it’s easy to wax poetic about couches because they integrated much more into our lives this past year. That fact reminds me of the weight of a home visit. Our homes became our worlds–our safe havens (ideally). Maybe the space became one longed for, or perhaps “home” was redefined outside four walls. Many of us may be avoiding home visits for safety, but one day, soon, they will return. When we step back through front doors, will we carry a new perspective?
I consider how directly tied space is to mental health. My rainy shelter-in-place days required much more rearrangement and thoughtful use of my living room compared to sunny, warm, windows-open afternoons. Notice how the senses are engaged. What are the sources of light? Like an urban planner, glance around for plants or access to nature. Are there textures of comfort or discomfort? Our homes mark our rhythms. Worn, cluttered paths surround daily objects—the coffee pot, the cabinet, the door mat. Is there control or chaos?
Our walls are illustrations of our lives. How we adorn our homes engages our imagination. Who or what moment is memorialized in frames? What iconography exists, even in the small corners of a hotel room? What is on the refrigerator hall of fame? What messages do the art on the walls advise about the world? I love glancing around the room while I have conversations–commenting on what space has been carved out for and noticing where patterns exist.
I will enter homes with much more gratitude. Thankful for shared conversations on patterned linoleum that likely only felt the same feet for more than a year. I will also pass through doors with much more respect. Respect for this space that became a family’s sanctuary, where, like me, they gazed out windows wondering when the world would be “normal” again and where toys cluttered desks with work computers and spelling books. And although I will be noticing the environment, I will not judge, but admire. The home visit is a glance at the family’s collage of who they are and where they are going. Even on blank walls, there’s hope to be found.
Mandy Goodwin-Noa, LCSW, is a school social worker for Cobb County School District in Atlanta, Georgia. She is also Program Director for Paint Love, a nonprofit that provides extraordinary art programming to youth who have experienced poverty and trauma. Mandy is passionate about the intersection of art and social work.