It just so happened that a friend of my sister was moving and offered to give us her dining room table.It was a nice size, oval, with a faux brown marble top made of the ever popular Formica. It had chrome legs, and no chairs, but we took it home and made it part of our lives.
We had that table in our dining room for thirty years.
Often covered with a nice table cloth, ( and other times strewn with laundry, junk mail, or tools), we never felt the urge to go out and replace it. It was solid and big and it worked.
Over the years, I fell in love with it, realizing it made a perfect place to spread out the sewing machine and fabric projects.
Covered with newspapers, it was ideal for pumpkin carving nights.
On weekends it was the best place for board games. And a deck of cards slid sweetly across its surface when a hand of Spades was being dealt.
That old table knew Thanksgiving turkeys and Christmas hams. And birthday cakes that were lopsided but baked with love.
It saw VCR tapes tossed upon it for return, then DVd's , and then the evolution to Blu Ray and an occasional XBox game.
That table was where I sat with my kids and dyed Easter eggs, our fingers turning the gray/blue/black, with spots of glitter and stickers.
And years later, it is the table where my grandchildren colored their Easter eggs, too... their bright faces proud of the multi colored masterpieces that they created.
How many art projects were born at that table? There is still a spot or two of glue, permanent marker, and spray paint as proof that fun was made right there...that scissors and paste and water colors and paper folding was always something that Nana enjoyed sharing at her old table.
That table is where we had our first Karaoke, dozens of guitar medleys, "Dad wants to talk to you " meetings...and where we simply just sat and talked.
That table was a great makeshift bar, holding several types of liquor and soda and glassware for Halloween celebrations and summer theme parties.
It was versatile. One day it might be a buffet, the next night it was a place to crawl under during the tornado watch.
Some days it was a tent, other times a place for presents and packages and prayers.
There were bar stools and desk chairs and high chairs alike pulled up to this table. And even a plywood addition on sawhorse legs to extend when company came.
It was a place for family. For life. For things that mattered.
My husband promised that when we build on next year, he will make me a big harvest table. He convinced me it was time to pass that old brown table to someone else who needed it.
So last week we gave it away.
Don't ask me why I cried.