February 28, 2012

The Table Comes First


I sat around all manner of tables on Sunday.

Each one with its own story.

There's the table—our table—where we shared breakfast. Coffee, toast and a navel orange.

The table where I played hand after hand of Rummy 500 with my grandmother, mother, and uncle.

The Sunday supper table. Encircled by a pacing, but patient dog.

The dining room table where we play(ed) chess.

There is comfort at the table. In my lifetime I will have spent hours-days-weeks-years passing a dish, refilling a glass, sharing a story, listening—at the table.


  1. the table is central--our communal gathering place, really.

    and I like how your tablecloth, so pretty, is not crisply pressed. Mine never is.

  2. The heart of the home. Another thoughtful post.

  3. I love the sound of all those tables. And you've brought back memories of my own distant Sundays; playing cards with my grandmother and her sisters. Here's to tables and all the life that they see.

  4. The family table is for so much more than simply sharing a meal. Our lives are played out around the table.

  5. I am on my way to visit my mother next week where I look forward to toast beverages at the table. This time, of course, with a wee one underfoot. xo

  6. So much good. You have sent me off in so many directions -- a breakfast my mom would love, rummy is my favorite card game, memories of playing chess with my uncles... Thank you. There is comfort at the table. I couldn't agree more.


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