Monday, January 19, 2015
Etched Within the Grains
I have mentioned before that we live in a small, one room schoolhouse. The main schoolhouse exists pretty much as it was, with the exception of one wall added to create a bedroom, and the ceiling removed to add a loft. The main living area, tiny, but well used, is where we live most of our day to day lives, and in this space is our table.
If there is one thing in our home that holds the story of our family, our table would be it. Justin and I ordered this table the week after we got married, visiting the workshop where it was to be built to pick the wood, to choose the style of table and chairs, and to decide on the finish. I always knew I wanted a harvest table, a place to gather with my family and friends, a place to plant a current project and bring it to life, a place to enjoy meals with those I love...a place to hold the memories of our story.
This year Justin and I will celebrate twenty years of marriage, I am still not quite sure how that happened, I mean twenty years! As we sat around this table for a meal last week, I saw it, each little mark, each scratch, each dent and I remembered. All the memories came rushing back. The dinners, just the two of us, in the basement apartment we lived in for the first two years we were married. The first time we placed it in our new home, it is still in the exact same spot. The meals and celebrations shared with family and friends. Justin and I sitting at opposite ends studying when we both went back to school in our early thirties. The year I was writing my book, when half the table was always covered with my notes and research. Reece, as a newborn, sleeping soundly in the center because he wouldn't sleep anywhere else. The many meals eaten solo as one of us tended to Reece, or the meals eaten one handed as I nursed my little man. The first time Reece joined us at the table, sitting on his own, laughing and playing with his food. The meals we enjoy now, just the three of us, candles glowing, chatting away about our day, and the days to come. The times we sit around it creating and crafting. Big decisions have been made around this table, little ones too, there are deep conversations had, and lighthearted family stories shared, and it is around this table that we now enjoy family art night, continuing to add to the memories this table holds.
This table is worn, there are marks that can never be removed, but in those marks, etched within the grain of the wood, are the memories of our family, and the love we have shared around this table. This table holds the story of our family, from the very beginning, and every time I walk by it, sit down at it, or fold the laundry on it, I remember.