The Story of The_Kitchen_Table

All through my life, the kitchen table was the place to be. As a child I often got to sit with the grown-ups and feel important. As a teenager, many a conversation about life and love were held at that table. As a young girl the safety and comfort I felt sitting at our table has always been something I’ve wanted to extend to others. There was never a time that a friend or relative was not welcome at our table. And oh, the laughs we shared. When my parents had company, the first place they headed for was the kitchen table for coffee. If it was lunchtime or early afternoon, it was coffee and sandwiches. If it was 8:00 pm, it was coffee and dessert.

When I woke up in the morning, one of my parents was always sitting at the table, ready for me (or one of my brothers) to stumble to the table–not quite awake. The coffee smelled wonderful! Even through their cigarette smoke. My Dad would have KYW news radio on in the background, but would turn it off when I sat down for breakfast. My Mom might be doing a crossword puzzle, but would put it aside and talk to me or ask me if I was ready for the day, did I need anything I forgot about the night before, was I doing anything after school and she’d wish me a good day.

As an adult, oh my! To be an adult (16) sitting at that table was the best. I could say exactly what I thought about things and never be shut down. Oh sure, there were times when my Mom would just shake her head at me and say “Oh come on Patsy! – You can’t be serious” or “You better think a little harder about that”. But I knew she wasn’t mad at me – she was concerned about some cockamamie idea I had about something. At that age, Dad would usually listen quietly, discuss it later with my Mom and my Mom would end up talking to me about it later if she thought it was serious.

When I became a mother, it was so comforting to be able to sit at the kitchen table with my parents. The real world was at last mine and when I struggled to deal with the responsibility and depth of it all, they treated me with compassion, respect and patience, still. It is a memory that cannot be repeated now, one that will never be replaced, but one that can be shared and experienced with others. I’d like to share that with you, so

The door is unlocked, the coffee is on. I’ve set a cup out for you. So grab a chair and make yourself comfortable at The Kitchen Table. I hope to share a sense of family, friendship and fun with you and that you feel free to leave your comments and insights here too! Thanks!