On Sunday’s I spread out and don’t worry about the mess. Sitting at the kitchen table I snapped a photo for you and to some it may look cluttered, but to me it tells the story of how I’m living my life.

My home is being used as storage for this kitchen table. One day, my daughter will take it when she has a big enough house for it, because it’s massive and very well made. She grew up with this table, so I get it, but in the meantime it’s my everything table. The top probably needs to be refinished before giving it to her because I’ve been hard on it knowing full well, it could take it.

The tray in the middle and what it contains changes often. Right now, it’s collecting Moravian Stars that I’m making to give away during the holidays. The dumbbell stays there so I’ll remember to use it and the stack of papers on the opposite corner is the ‘don’t lose these papers’, stack during an organizing mood. Everything else accumulated this morning but tomorrow it will look different.

Each new day offers new content for this table.

It took me a long time to accept storage of the kitchen table. For me, it represented the aftermath of a life we left and held some hard memories. It felt like it had been discarded here instead of given. My ex-husband didn’t want it, but knew my daughter did, so he had it delivered here years ago.

My daughter and I shared life changing conversations and delicious meals at this table. During Covid she took her college courses while sitting there, but I still wasn’t pleased with it being here. Time passed and I saw it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so acceptance and forgiveness eased it’s way and I began seeing the table in a new light. It’s not the table’s fault the marriage didn’t last, but this kitchen table was built to bless generations.

When my daughter is ready to take it and use it as her own, a large, empty space will loom and I’ll enjoy the openness for a bit, but then see myself googling… “Desk. Large. The size of a kitchen table.”

Feature Photo by Jill Dimond on Unsplash