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.