About a year and a half ago we got my grandma’s kitchen table. It’s not really an old table. It does not have my mom’s name etched in it from years of homework. I don’t think Christmas cookies were ever decorated around it; I’m not even sure how many guests it hosted. My Grandma and Grandpa bought the table when they moved from their home into an apartment. I got the table after grandma had had a stroke and was breaking up her apartment to go and live with her children.?
We needed a table, and the matching chairs were an added benefit. Along with the table came several tablecloths (one with matching napkins) and a set of six animal napkin rings that I had given my grandma–but no special memories that I could recall. Although I am sure they were there. Isn’t that the nature of kitchen tables?
What I did not get along with the table was all the family pictures my grandma had displayed for years in standing frames on this tale in the corner of her little apartment!
Yesterday, as I wiped down the table after breakfast I was overwhelmed with sadness. Grandma died just a few weeks ago, and I guess I was grieving the memories I would no longer make with her. But then I was flooded with thoughts of the memories my family has already made around that table and in such a short time. Christmas cookies have been decorated there, guests entertained, birthday parties shared, stories of all sorts told. Last fall we scooped out pumpkins and made blachenta (and bean soup!), just the boys and I. We passed the test and successfully replicated the recipe of this wonderful German pumpkin pastry. And although there are no names etched into the woodwork yet, I am sure that one day they will be there as we use our table for school and all sorts of projects.
I am thankful for this simple table, and ever so thankful for the woman who gave it to me. I am thankful for the almost 83 years she had and the wonderful memories I do have–of sitting around Aunt Julie’s table and learning that for scraping fine shreds of pumpkin for blachenta, it’s all in the wrist. Of Grandma teaching us how to make pinwheel cookies at Christmas, and feeding us store bought cookies, too (only grandma had those for us). I have memories going to Circus World Museum with Grandma, Grandpa Fabe and Uncle Jimmy. And a most treasured memory of interviewing all of my grandparents for a senior paper in college. So here is to the memories made and the ones that are just being made around my table!
I had to revisit this sight once again………..you are, indeed, the family historian. The one who takes the time for what really counts in life.
I admire you and Andy for this quality and I am confident that it will continue as a blessing to many through your children (my grandchildren)
long after Dad and I are gone