We finally bought a new dining room set. It was about time, too, as anyone who's been to our home within the past few years could testify. Our old second hand table, bought almost ten years ago right after we moved to Michigan for law school, was in far from pristine condition. We'd bolted one of the legs in place a couple years ago, and another wobbly leg was in need of a bolt. A few years ago, Geoff sanded the table top, and it turned out quite nice... except that he only got halfway through sanding the leaf. Sometime between homeschooling two kids instead of one and Luke joining the family at the table, that leaf became a permanent fixture, giving our table top an odd three-tone effect - with specks and streaks of color left from not-so-washable- washable markers. The legs, wobbly and knobby, never were stripped or sanded or refinished or painted or... anything. And the chairs... the poor, poor chairs require glue and clamps on a regular basis. As you can imagine, I was more than glad when Geoff suggested a trip to Ikea, and I am quite eager to see how our new table, chairs, and curtains come together, especially once Geoff removes the several boxes of Cub Scout stuff that were moved onto the new table so he could disassemble and relocate the old table.
Still... there's a little part of me that's just a wee bit sad to say goodbye to the old table and is breathing a deep sigh of relief knowing our old table is only moving to a back room for a future as a bolted-together three-tone craft table. That table has served us remarkably well.
When we moved to Michigan, we gave away or sold most of our furniture, as we had very little worth the added expense of a moving truck. Instead, we crammed everything into a U-Haul trailer, packing as lightly and tightly as possible. Once in Michigan, settled into our apartment, we went in search of inexpensive used furniture. Enter the table. We picked it up in a dingy second hand store, along with its four accompanying chairs and two recliners, one of which still sits in our living room, a pea green 1970's eyesore that has long surpassed its life expectancy, yet still keeps rocking, and will probably survive to be a cherished family heirloom at the rate we're going. I think we spent about $125 for the lot. I don't remember being particularly impressed with the table. It was there. It was inexpensive. It would do.
That was, as I mentioned, nearly ten years ago. In the early years, the table hosted the countless games of Spades that were the highlight of our time in Michigan - well, except for having Andrew. Adding him to our family definitely was better than Spades. In more recent years, our old table has provided the literal foundation for the foundations of our children's social and academic education. It has welcomed our children into the world of dining at the big table, and at it, they have practiced using forks, spoons, knives. They have learned to scribble, draw, and write at this table. They have poured over math problems and poured out their milk. Markers have left a rainbow of short lines and pens have left a few valleys where my children's enthusiasm extended beyond their papers' edges. The old table boasts a "knot" that is actually a burn from the day pyromania almost got the better of Geoff and a small notch from the day someone couldn't resist testing out his new saw. (I can't explain his behavior toward this table. He is generally a rather conscientious steward of his belongings!) That funky old table bears the marks of a decade of life, and not just any life... our life. I cannot think of it without a touch of longing for all the times past that we have spent around it, laughing and completely unconcerned about any damage that might possibly come to the table. Because let's face it... you really couldn't hurt that thing!
So I was glad and a little charmed when Geoff, holding the legless tabletop up as he stood in a sea of cardboard a few feet from our newly assembled dining room table, remarked that it had been a good table and declared that its usefulness to our family shall continue. I'd hate to see it go, even though I know our memories would remain. Our second hand table has served us far longer and far better than I would have supposed. We bought it for an apartment, little imagining how very much life would occur around a simple table that "would do."
I look into our dining room tonight and wonder what wonderful memories will take shape around this new, untested table. I wonder what nicks and scratches will be etched, what lessons learned, what tears shed, what laughter shared. I envision the finished dining room (we're still waiting to find a rug and put the curtains up) and almost entertain the dream that our new table will always be as pretty as it is now. Then I realize that even as I appreciate the smooth wood, unmarred surfaces, and chairs upholstered in a fabric that makes me all happy and serene, these are not the things that make a dining room table beautiful. It is the life that surrounds a table that makes it precious. I have little doubt that our new table will soon bear the marks of family life and every hope that it will grow to be as emotionally dear as it is visually pleasing.
I guess that means I can't complain about the boxes of Cub Scout stuff that are already sitting on my new table, huh? :)
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