The Kitchen Table

Growing up my family made it a point to sit down together at the dinner table the majority of nights. This enabled us to not only share in a dining experience, but to share in each other’s lives. No TV, no telephone, no books at the table. For at least half an hour each night, we would decompress from the day and reconnect with one another. This being said, in a sense our kitchen tables bear witness to our lives.

The invitation to dine together and taste the food prepared for you, is an invitation to participate in one another’s lives. Therefore, the kitchen table has come to be a place to proclaim one’s milestones in life. With a plate full of nourishment in front of us, surrounded by people we love, and with the sturdiness of our kitchen table beneath our hands, we find the courage to say, “I have an announcement . . . we’re getting married, I’m moving to New York, I didn’t get into Berkeley.” From highs to lows, our kitchen table experiences it all alongside us.

But more importantly, the kitchen table bears witness to the small mundane parts of our lives. From our first bite of solid food, to the A+ we receive on our spelling test, to conversations of politics and religion, the kitchen table is there to listen.

As I set the table for a dinner party with old family friends, I am reminded of what this table has been through, or more likely, what it has helped me through. Adorned with a white tablecloth, I place fork on the left, knife on the right, preparing to come to the table once again to share in food, laughter and love.

While faces at the table might come and go and the number of seats may change, the kitchen table remains.