Monday, April 13, 2009


from here via remodelista - this too.

There is something soothing to me about sliding up to your place at the table along a bench. Some of my best childhood memories took place while sitting on a bench of my parent's dinner table.

At 9, crammed between my siblings at dinner I went into a fit of giggles so hard I fell backward off the bench and just rolled on the ground until it passed. I've done hours and hours of homework on those benches. It was a regular ritual growing up to sit and talk with my grandmother while she enjoyed her daily beer and a cigarrette at the end of the table. Sometimes we didn't say much at all, I would just sit with her and trace the grain of the wood on the table or watch the thin trail of smoke float up to the ceiling.

On Sundays after church I would sit at the table to read the comics. Nearing 16 I would also flip through the classified ads looking for my dream car. I have celebrated almost every single birthday sitting at the end of the table while my friends and family flanked the sides sitting on those benches.

And while celebrating Easter with my family yesterday, Jay sat at the table on one of the benches and it made me smile hoping he knew what a special place that was for me and knowing another good memory was just created.

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