once upon a table

There once was a table.

A red table.

A table that used to be brown.

A table that held years of roasted chickens, beans and cornbread, RC Colas, mashed potatoes and banana pudding.

This table inspired poetry.

This table served as a sideboard in my grandma’s living room because her kitchen was too tiny. It was the first kitchen table we placed London’s toddler booster seat up against. We used it until the booster seats outnumbered the grown up chairs.

And then it became the extra table.

The table I refused to give away despite Kevin’s truthful assertion that our home had no space for an extra kitchen table.  Particularly an extra kitchen table I impulsively painted red and antiqued with an off-white.

This table served as a schoolroom table, a craft table – where sharpies and glue sticks and splotches of paint were carelessly allowed to permanently alter its appearance.

And this week, this table has survived yet another rebirth.

Bright leftover paint from the schoolroom walls.

Chalkboard paint for added fun and dinnertime occupation.

And a prime resting spot on the corner of the porch, below twinkling white lights and surrounded by breezy white curtains.

Awaiting its fate patiently, never knowing what the next coat of paint may bring about.