We would all gather there, around that lonely kitchen table. Whether it was dinner or breakfast, we would be there. Sun, sleet or snow; we wold end up around that table. Even if it was just to watch Mr. Rodgers have a wonderful day in his neighborhood, we were always at that table.
Even as we got older we kept coming back. In from the cold to greedily slurp hot coca from Mom's earthenware mugs. Entertaining friends with random "art" projects, and board games. Even when we were distraught over whatever growing pains we were going through, that kitchen table saw a lot of use.
Despite its use, hindsight will not let me see any signs of it. I can still see the egshell white of it's surface stretched out from the bay window it was built into. The wood trim, and its amber stain stretching to the pillar which supported the othe end. In this wooden pilar was an alcove in wh