if tables could talk

We temporarily return to the present time period for a tribute to a kitchen table. 

I mentioned I wasn’t particularly sentimental about our tv.  But I’m painfully sentimental about this kitchen table.  I’ve eaten meals at this kitchen table for my entire life.  This table has been witness two a family of four, then five, six, seven and eight.  (Yes, it only seats six, the little boys had to eat at the counter.)

I imagine this table saw Hall family debates, family meals, much laughter, dozens of birthday parties, and I know for a fact that tears were shed over this table.  Tears about slimy broccoli.  Homework was done at this table, sewing done at this table.  Letters written, letters read.  Books and newspapers read.  Thousands of mugs of ice cream.  Delicious meals were eaten, not so delicious meals were reluctantly eaten.  Countless bowls of cereal were consumed at this table.  Siblings argued at this table, parents paid bills at this table.  Imporant decisions were no doubt discussed at this table.  Games played at this table.  Oh the games played at this table! The alphabet was carved into this table, along with the romantic tribute “Mom + Dad” in a heart. 

Then this table once again belonged to a family of two.  Then three, four, five and now six.  More of everything mentioned above was done at this table.  Children spent hours at this table eating and avoiding eating.  Little people climbed on this table to retrieve fruit with little hands.  Painting and crafting have been done at this table.  A chair, that currently resides in Nebraska, is missing from this table. 

We ate our last meal at this table on Sunday.  I didn’t cry.  But I still want to.

I couldn’t bear to part with this table if it weren’t for a new table I received as a gift.  The new table isn’t “new” but it was a labor of love from a friend who moved away.  And it is much nicer looking. 

I’m tempted to selfishly hold on to it, keep it in my garage until I have a house big enough for two tables.  (HA! I can see Richard cringing as he reads that.) But I am reminded of Buzz & Woody.  What good were they packed up in a box in an attic?  What kind of life was that for them? 

Hopefully my dear table will find renewed functionality meeting the needs of a new family. 

So long kitchen table.

Does anyone need a kitchen table? Free to a good home. 

6 thoughts on “if tables could talk

  1. Well crap, that made me sentimental about your table and if I had a bigger garage I'd offer to hold onto it for you until you have that house big enough for two tables.


  2. I felt the same way about out little black table. It fit perfectly in our Wymount apartment and carried us through our first years together. Now, it doesn't have the history that yours does, but I relate to the sentiment of items that have been a part of your life.


  3. awww…thats cute, jo:) i love the way you feel about your table, it makes me look at my kitchen table differently(and we have only had ours for 9 years, since starting our own little family:)


  4. Unfortunately, your chair is not here with us in Nebraska. We finally let go of it after several moves and realizing the chances of ever getting it back to you would be basically impossible. I still remember seeing that chair at our apt after the movers unpacked the trailer. I said to Brian, “Didn't Richard watch the movers pack everything.” Brian – yes. So why do we have THEIR chair. UMMMMMMM I don't kow!!! It was a funny yet sad moment for I knew you would be so upset.


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