I'm grateful for our painted kitchen table. It's where we eat every meal together from a bowl of oatmeal to a candlelit dinner. A shabby, shaky old thing, the top of it is a little warped, but it handles anything we ask of it- well, up to 8. I bought it in a Connecticut junk store, found way in the back and now it's the center of the house.
The place where Suzanne's September orchid still blooms.
The surface where I stage my photos in spring.
And every other season too.
The scene where I introduce new friends.
Where I paint and play.
Sit down for a meal or celebrate a special day.
Linger with visiting family and friends.
Cherish a million fleeting, favorite moments that could only have happened here. At this old table, then and now. Gratefully.