Friday, August 9, 2013

Tabled

In my dining room, until 10:30 am today, sat a medium colored drop leaf wood table, rectangle variety, with simple woodwork on the legs. Next to it was the matching hutch. The hutch is still here. The table is not.

That table (and hutch) came from my grandmother's and grandfather's house. It was something they bought together when they were first married, and it was still in pristine condition when I inherited it.

I remember many things about that table--sitting at it, refusing to eat green eggs and ham (yes, my grandpa read me the book, then made me the food, and I promptly refused to eat it); my grandpa making "octopus hotdogs" and eggs that covered my plate in a single layer, like an omelet, but with a ketchup smiley face on them; having tea with my grandma; cutting up greeting cards and making them into puzzles; eating our Dec. 24 pancakes and sausage Christmas-Eve-Morning traditional family breakfast; the fruitcake my grandmother would make; the depression glass, sorted into three colors (blue, green, amber) on three different window sills; the tablecloths over the table and how I could hide under it; the tiny green rubber frog that would sit on the corner of the table when I was being toilet trained--if I "did my job" then there would be an M&M waiting under the frog for me.

Long after my grandparents died, when my dad brought the table down to us in Indiana, something shifted in the truck, and it broke a leg of the table, and not just the leg--it broke the upper infrastructure that connected all the legs.

Vor and I took the table in anyways, and set it up with the leaves down, and used it as a sort of buffet in our dining room. Vor made several attempts, but nothing but a complete redo of the table was going to help it, and I balked at the idea and the cost, and the fact that it wasn't the same after that.

It's been sitting in our dining room since 2009, and recently, was subjected to the indignity of being colored upon by a wayward toddler. We just weren't sure how to save it.

Then, Vor's mom sold her house, and in the process of moving and building a new house, she got rid of a bunch of furniture. We decided to load up some of our old stuff with hers to declutter, and Vor hesitantly mentioned the table. Could it go to the auction, too?

Oh, my heart.

Of course, the answer is yes. We can't repair it, and we don't use it. I still have the hutch. At 10:30 this morning, the table left for a new home, and hopefully, many more memories of breakfasts and toddlers and M&Ms.

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