May 25, 2009
The Tales That it Could Tell
I was washing down the kitchen table today and thought about all that it could say; all that it says about a family. Ours has grown as our family has grown. As newlyweds, we had a ramshackle of a table salvaged from a house fire. It only had 2 decent chairs because the other two were a bit charred and had water damage. But it fulfilled it's duty. We ate our first dinner as man and wife at that table. Some type of burnt casserole with a side of mushy vegetable. It housed our computer for a while. Tears were shed there as we realized that our family of two would soon become three. When we moved, the old table came with us. We realized that feeding a baby at an old fire withered table probably wasn't such a great idea so we braved the aisles of K-Mart for an upgrade. We could comfortably seat four now. School work was completed there. I would sit and write out lesson plans and Silas would color. We'd play games and plan trips on our old kitchen table. Many meals were shared, much bread broken. That table welcomed home two of our babies. Held heads that were weary from sorrow and happiness. We soon realized that it was time for another upgrade. Three babies plus two parents wouldn't equal four. We bought a wonderful table with eight comfy chairs. There are small scratch marks where biscuits were rolled out and cut. Little spots of glitter and paint where eggs were dyed and artwork created. Homework is etched out here now. Both Archie and I work from the kitchen table. It usually has at least one drop of sticky syrup that I've missed while hastily cleaning. It holds beautiful flowers that I am blessed with on Valentines Day and Mother's Day. The chairs hold laundry to dry, fold or put away. Backpacks dangle from chair backs.
I always wanted one of those old farmhouse tables that runs the length of the kitchen with makeshift chairs and benches. Usually piled high with food at supper or supper fixins. This table isn't quite like that, but I can already find happiness and see memories in it's marks and scrapes. It's no longer a pristine dining table, but a scrapbook of memories. Oh the tales it could tell!