If This Old Table Could Talk

If this old table could talk, the stories it
might tell would captivate you, anger you, cause
tears to sting your eyes and warm your heart
through and through.

It had been the perfect table for their lovely dinning
room, where she now found herself most nights alone with a
plate of cold food before her, at the other end of the
table sat an empty chair and place setting, the plans
she'd made for intimate dinners with flickering candle
light and her handsome young husband, now echoed off
silent walls, his road to success did not detour at home,
they eventually had one child who was sent to boarding
school, her Father far to busy, her mother to numb from
alcohol to care.

The daughter sold the home's furnishings after her
father died of a heart attack brought on by exhaustion,
where three months earlier her mother was found dead at
the table with a drink in her hand, the table held
no fond memories for this young woman, nor sadly,
did the passing of her parents.

A Husband bought the table as an anniversary gift
for his wife, her joy could not be contained, she
ran her hands over the rich wood and elegant edges
of the table long after everyone was asleep
their three children, Parents, Aunts, Uncles and
a slew of cousins reveled over feasts of turkey
and all the trimmings at Thanksgiving and Christmas,
baked Ham on Easter, wonderful birthday parties and
always the laughter and warmth of a loving family.

The table was now old and had certainly seen better days
with one very wobbly leg and all the finish gone, it sat on
the curb waiting for the disposal truck, a man and his wife
were driving by when the old table caught her eye she
insisted her husband stop and put it in the back of their
truck, once home it was placed in a corner of their garage,
her husband still wondering what she wanted with a piece
of worthless furniture.

She began spending all her spare time in the garage,
humming as she painstakingly sanded, varnished, waxed
and repaired, she knew if this old table could talk
the stories it might tell, but then the table had many
silent stories to tell, J P and R L, true love forever
was scratched into a middle edge, what appeared to have
been a pooling of tear drops had left their tell tale
markings on one end, as she sanded, she was sure she
could smell the aroma of baked ham, under the table she
found what appeared to be bits of petrified gum, far enough
from the edge so Mom wouldn't discover it and forgotten with
shouts of summer fun drifting in on the breeze outside
the window.

Yes, if this old table could only talk, the tales it
would tell...

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