This Old Table

The subject of the kitchen light fixtures in the previous post reminded me I've never detailed the story of this kitchen table of ours.

This was the night we moved into our home, January 2004. Notice that we had no kitchen table. (We didn't continue to eat on the floor however... why we ate on the kitchen floor that night is beyond me...)



Not too long after we moved in, we were given a four person solid wood table with fold out sides. It had no matching chairs and so we used folding chairs. Our family of three (at the time) fit around it just fine. Even once Andrew came along, it was okay, but it was becoming difficult to fit guests at our table. It had always been a little small for the dining area, and once we discovered our family would grow by one more, we knew it would be even harder for all of us to fit around it. Though I did liked my little table, we had been looking around for a new one. Then Chad's grandmother passed away. Chad went to California to pack up her home, and he seized the opportunity to snag us a new kitchen table, knowing as he did, the necessity of a larger table for our family. I should have been clued in when I learned no one else wanted the table. Chad pitched it to me over the phone as a really nice table. I was so blinded by the excitement of getting a bigger, solid wood (or so I thought) table that I didn't think to ask more specific questions. I thought, at the very least, he could bring it home in the moving truck with everyone else's inherited furniture, and if I didn't like it, we could just keep our old table, which I had decided would make a great craft table to be used in the guest room. Fast forward to about a week later. It was the same day of Caitlyn's graveside service. It was a bad time to be unloading furniture from a moving truck anyway, but it had to get to its other destinations. Chad had brought the table in and set it up in the kitchen while I was napping. I came out of my room, post nap, and became speechless.

Imagine my surprise when I thought I was getting something (anything) along the lines of this:



(A solid wood table with matching chairs)

And instead, got this:



A white laminate and metal table with blue upholstered early 90's era metal chairs. Yes, it was a larger table, in great condition, it even had an extra leaf, but it was not what I had in mind. I had been trying for a while to get my color scheme in line for my kitchen and had already bought and placed several deep red and brown items for decor. This was not going to match. It was awful!

I imagined in the future I would let Chad know I'd rather bring back our old table. I didn't have the heart to tell Chad then, especially since he'd been so excited about it. Later that evening, we were eating dinner at the shiny (and let me emphasize shiny) new table, and the inevitable question came from Chad: "So, what do you think of the table? Pretty nice huh?" He looked at me expectantly, with a smile on his face. Bless his heart, I know he hoped I would say, "it's awesome!" But that wasn't what I was going to say... I didn't know what to say or how to say it. I think I finally mumbled something tactless, like, "um, it's okay." Chad's face fell and he said, "you don't like it?" And I said, "no, it IS nice and big, and that's great, and it's nice that the chairs match, it's just that it's not what I was thinking it was... and it doesn't really match the rest of the kitchen." I wasn't too concerned though-- in my mind I'd hung my hopes on bringing back the old table and in due time, purchasing a new one, like the one I had anticipated. So I suggested that. And then Chad dropped a bomb: "The old table?" (Uncomfortable Silence). "Um... it's on its way to Nashville..." (Sound of Kristin's jaw dropping) "WHAT?!?!?!" Chad was very apologetic... unbeknownst to me, it had already been decided (without my input) that the table would go to my sister in law, who is a talented seamstress, for a sewing table. So, not only would I be eating at this henious table 3 plus times a day, I wouldn't have a craft table to scrapbook on or stamp at or anything either. Secretly, I'd always hoped for my own sewing table, but, ironically, it was now on its way to Nashville. Oh well. It suddenly struck me as extremely and unfortunately funny. I laughed. It was all just so absurd. I still laugh when I think about it.

And it has taken a while, but now I don't mind the table. I still don't like the color or style of it, mind you, and might apologize to you over its unmatchiness when you come over. But I love my husband more when I look at this old table because I know at the time he had my best interests at heart: he was just trying to make me happy, and provide nice furnishings for our home. I appreciate the thought that went into it, even though it has taken me a while to appreciate the table itself.

But I won't cry the day we get a new one.