We have 2 kitchen tables. Both Pine. One a four seater when we were a family of 3 then a 6 seater when we became a family of 6. Both second hand. The children at the 6 seater table cried when they had to let it go, asked us to look after it and they were only about 10 ish. I remember being surprised by the sentimentality of such youngsters. Look after it we have, we brought both tables to NZ when we emigrated 17 years ago, this August. We live in a small house so when our eldest left home she had the big table, but I always wanted it back 😹 we celebrated grandchildren’s birthdays at the big table. Then she moved to a house with a smaller kitchen so we swapped. She now has the small table as a family of 5 and we have the big table back, I squeezed it in. We are back to a family of three, often just two but at the moment it is full of tomatoes, garlic and cucumbers from our tunnel house. We sometimes squeeze on it to eat. We need the big table!!!
Lovely, lovely. So many lines that made me say 'yes, me too.' I realise now why I get a pang of sadness and annoyance every time I visit my brother and his wife in the Laurentian mountains outside Montreal. It is because they have still have my pine kitchen table (I still call it mine) that I LENT them when they moved to England. When the removal men came to move them back to Canada they took my table with them. I pretended i didn't mind. But I did. And I mind even more now as they aren't using it as a kitchen table - their son has built them a new one which they are tremendously proud of and MY table is out in the chicken room for incubating chickens on. At least they don't eat them. Just havve them for eggs. But still....I think I am rambling. But that is what your post did to me. I loved it.
The stories a table could tell. We found our 19th-century Jarrah and pine table at a garage sale for $100 and I almost cried with joy. What a blessing that we can etch our stories upon it's sturdy top, perhaps in some ways being inspired by all those who have sat there before.
We have 2 kitchen tables. Both Pine. One a four seater when we were a family of 3 then a 6 seater when we became a family of 6. Both second hand. The children at the 6 seater table cried when they had to let it go, asked us to look after it and they were only about 10 ish. I remember being surprised by the sentimentality of such youngsters. Look after it we have, we brought both tables to NZ when we emigrated 17 years ago, this August. We live in a small house so when our eldest left home she had the big table, but I always wanted it back 😹 we celebrated grandchildren’s birthdays at the big table. Then she moved to a house with a smaller kitchen so we swapped. She now has the small table as a family of 5 and we have the big table back, I squeezed it in. We are back to a family of three, often just two but at the moment it is full of tomatoes, garlic and cucumbers from our tunnel house. We sometimes squeeze on it to eat. We need the big table!!!
I loved this piece Java! They truly are one of the greatest romances of one's life, they bear witness to everything. <3
Lovely, lovely. So many lines that made me say 'yes, me too.' I realise now why I get a pang of sadness and annoyance every time I visit my brother and his wife in the Laurentian mountains outside Montreal. It is because they have still have my pine kitchen table (I still call it mine) that I LENT them when they moved to England. When the removal men came to move them back to Canada they took my table with them. I pretended i didn't mind. But I did. And I mind even more now as they aren't using it as a kitchen table - their son has built them a new one which they are tremendously proud of and MY table is out in the chicken room for incubating chickens on. At least they don't eat them. Just havve them for eggs. But still....I think I am rambling. But that is what your post did to me. I loved it.
One of my all time favourite poems. Thanks for giving it some love here. The kitchen table is quite simply, everything.
The stories a table could tell. We found our 19th-century Jarrah and pine table at a garage sale for $100 and I almost cried with joy. What a blessing that we can etch our stories upon it's sturdy top, perhaps in some ways being inspired by all those who have sat there before.