If only the old kitchen table could talk
“The more this table ages, the better it looks,” said the salesperson when Thomas and I bought our kitchen table. Years later that statement would have more meaning than the aging of the wood.
I dusted the kitchen table and saw the words, “Daniel C. Herlong” imprinted in the grain of the wood. I remember that was the time when Daddy Big John was teaching Holmes how to write cursive. The lesson was obviously repeated several times. Now we have an indelible memory of my father-in-law’s signature to cherish.
To the right of the signature is another memory from another Herlong brother. Uncle Frank came to visit and if you have ever had a Frank Herlong visit you have a story. Uncle Frank shared his track career at Clemson and used an oval place mat to simulate how he ran. By the time Uncle Frank finished running laps, we had an oval shape marked on the wood.
If only the old kitchen table could talk, it would tell stories.
It was a place of high chairs, Holmes and Caroline’s first words. The best facial expressions when new foods were tasted for the first time. There was contagious laughter that can only come from a baby. Our table is filled with milestones all parents love to experience.
Our kitchen table is a place of gathering. It was a place of fun that was decorated with Pocahontas themed birthday parties, cowboy round-ups and grown-up monumental birthdays. That table is where the Easter Bunny left jelly beans, chocolate bunnies and Thomas’ sock bunny that has returned every year since 1980.
There were failed meals, tears, laughter, and serious conversation. Countless drills of Wordly Wise, term papers and graduation thank you notes
My parents sat around that table with Thomas’ parents. They laughed and told stories about growing up, places they had seen and other tales. We laughed and learned with them.
I remember our past and miss family members who are no longer with us. My prayer is that the future holds more graduation notes, wedding invitations, and high chairs with grandbabies.
Our kitchen table is a storybook of a cherished past and a gathering place for tomorrow’s memories.
