The Table

May 4, 2011

A gaping hole in our lives was filled recently – not actually by friends or loved ones, but with the promise.

The empty spot in the middle of the cherry flooring – from where the living room ends to where the morning light pours in through the windows- was just filled with a beautiful new expanse of togetherness, health, happiness. A symbol of the good life. For now, instead of being a no-man’s-land merely swept weekly but never enjoyed now contains a beautiful, sleek, modern, and yet completely old fashioned symbol of home.

The new dining table is something that I have been longing for since the first mention of furniture being a possible purchase on our radar (instead of backpacks and plane tickets ) several years back. A broad farm table, that could be used for stretching out newspapers, coffee cups, plates of pancakes and all of the accoutrements plus a vase of flowers on Sunday morning. To rest glasses of wine and plates of cheese as our friends and loves ones circulate and enjoy good company. Or to perch on during the evenings that come after long days.

Or used to prepare and serve feasts – no matter how simple. This was just the spontaneous occasion that arose this weekend when late afternoon rolled easily into dinnertime and a few cherished, but usually far-flung friends found themselves using the dark clean surface to slice eggplant, tomatoes and slices of crusty bread for smoked mozzarella + veggie sandwiches, sitting down to share glasses of Spanish wine and toasts to each other, and to the occasion – the opportunity to take a quick meal from ordinary to extraordinary and memorable. All thanks to The Table.

Days later, without photographs of the evening, I have found myself resting my daily necessities on the benches – flowers from the market, the birthday cards I intend to send, magazines that I don’t want to forget to read and my own plate and wine glass as I sit down to enjoy dinner in the evening. I can still hear the jokes shared, clinking of flatware and the hum of satisfaction as the last bites of ice cream sandwich, the last drops of wine were enjoyed. I would lie if I said that these little moments didn’t make the days between these fabulously fleeting gatherings a little bit more full. I sit down to tie my shoes on one of the benches of this stereotypical symbol of gathering that is old as humanity. And at last it is ours.

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