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A Letter to My Kitchen Table

Dear Table,

Your time has come. You’ve been a great, sturdy, dependable table, but now we must send you from the kitchen to the upstairs craft room. You are, after thirteen faithful years, being replaced.

It’s not because we don’t appreciate you, dear Table. You have endured such abuse, and we do appreciate your fortitude. We bought you and your six chairs before we were even married at the now-defunct discount store, Venture, for $200, and the scars of the years are obvious. If we look carefully, we can still discern Michael’s Biochemistry notes from medical school etched into your surface. There is still a small dent where, one night during dinner, the dining room light fixture inexplicably fell out of the ceiling. Your finish has been removed by spilled rubbing alcohol during a rare family craft time and an unfortunate incident with Soft Scrub. You still have dried food, milk, and Play-dough glued on all sides. You have borne more than your share of fingerpaints and strained peas.

Your chairs have held up reasonably well for a very laid-back family, despite the ridicule from our closest friends. True, two of the chairs have not had backs for quite some time, and another chair is losing its spindles, but they still provided a sturdy – if not stained – place to rest our behinds.

But oh! what memories we have from sitting around you! We have sat with a countless number of friends and family as we ate from your surface and shared life together. We dried off our babies on you after their baths in the kitchen sink. You held up the birthday cakes for three 1st birthdays. What laughter you have witnessed!

And what pain. I recall a few conversations as Michael and I faced each other with you in between us, wondering if our marriage would survive. You bore our tears and stood solid amidst our raised voices.

So here we are. We debated whether or not to refinish you or graduate you to the long-intended purpose of being a craft table. Surely you would not want to endure the pain of sanding and refinishing, right? You will be much happier in your world of playdough and watercolor paints.

Farewell, faithful Table. Thanks for the memories.

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5 thoughts on “A Letter to My Kitchen Table

  1. Goodbye Table. We’ve also enjoyed meals at that table – quiet ones when we were young marrieds and noisy ones once all the kiddos arrived (I distinctly remember a dinner in your Houston apartment… I even remember what we ate!). We had that table’s twin when we were first married too!

  2. Be happy you have such a table of memories!! Our first kitchen table (that we only had for about 6months after we married) blew out of a flat bed trailer somewhere between Laredo and San Antonio – Jim and I weren’t able to react in time – so he ran over it with his pickup truck and I finished it off with my car…fun times:)

  3. Dear Table,Thanks for enduring all of those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, easter eggs, sugar cookie sprinkles and frosting! I remember at least one Easter dinner, Thanksgiving dinner and countless other dinners. The wonderful conversations that Jennifer and I had while trying to ignore the chaos around us… We made life plans together with you holding our bowl of m&ms or bowls of ice cream. Even more so than the numerous birthday parties and holidays we celebrated around you, we thank you for being a part of our special tradition of ice cream sundaes which were a sweet way to ease the pain of the reality that we would no longer sit around you daily with our sweet friends. You have been a good, strong table that held up to the many antics of our kids! Thanks for the memories too!

  4. Ok , Fer-fer are you sure you did not steal this table from us. We had this exact table, and yes, I think ours to came from Venture and the price was $200. We let ours go 2 years ago in a garage sale.

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