There is a table in our house that tells our story.  A story of family and the lives they live.  One that changes it’s decor as often as its family changes activities.

It starts out clean in the mornings…  most mornings…  some mornings…  almost no mornings.  But it eventually gets clean.  Breakfast is upon us, after all.

Three loud, talkative, laughing – most of the time – girls clamor to gather to start their day.  Food is played with, thrown at times, and sometimes eaten and the table supports its all.  Requests – orders – are made for more banana, more water, or quiet – by Mommy.

As the children finish their meals, the table is left, holding onto cups, plates, plastic wear, and banana peels.  She holds the backs of her askew chairs high and awaits for a cleaning to refresh her and prepare her for the next onslaught.

Depending on the day, the table hosts all sorts of events.  Coloring, Play- Doh, or any other craft that causes kids to write, glue, or stick glittery flowers to her tablecloth.  She waits for me to clean her up, after I inspect the artwork and regale the children with praise, of course.  The table watches as I stick the papers to the refrigerator, desk, and other furniture that she can relate to.  She is not jealous, for it all originated with her.

My kitchen table is home to backpacks, lunch boxes, throw carelessly coats, headbands, and purses.  She holds groceries that wait to be moved to their home, loads of laundry waiting to be folded, and presents celebrating birthday’s.  She is the backdrop for pictures, hosts the time out chair, and carries the burden of feeling dog nails on her when they want to steal a scrap.

She is my supporter, my constant companion, my multi-tasker with one purpose.  She is where I sit and watch my children, my husband, and my guests enjoy meals, tell tales of their days, and learn about each other.  I sort my life on her and she never lets me down.  She holds dear what I hold dear.

I do my best to protect the table.  Thick pads and a new, clean, warm, tablecloth every few weeks.  I wipe her legs, scrub her chairs, and make sure she is centered just so in her room.  I want to present her in the best light possible after all.

Just as she presents us.