Passions in Prose |
The Table |
aziza Member Elite
since 2006-07-09
Posts 2995Lumpy Oatmeal makes me Crazy! |
When I was little, I lived in a big old house. It was called a farm style, and was one big room downstairs. It was on a hill and looked over an inlet, and six active volcanoes. Some children will measure a day by the clouds in the sky; we looked to see if the mountains were smoking. That is if we could see them. A lot of the time, they were covered by fog that would not burn off for days. Sundays, we would tumble out of bed and my mom would have been up for hours. She had cinnamon rolls rising on the heating grate and coffee cake in the oven. We thought this was normal. The kitchen table was also the dining room table ... and it was the family card table, the puzzle table, the homework table, the work on a motor table, the whatever it had to be table. It was the heart of our home. When we were berry picking and if a bear was around, it became the hide the dog table. We were taught that if the dog was gone to come home NOW. That table is still part of my life. My Mom painted it when I was in junior high (it is some kind of wood) and it...well, it looked like crap. We all told her how nice it looked because ... well, she has no decorating sense. Now it is in her home and I tell her that table looks good, but it sure looked awful when you painted it. Now, it is a link to a past that is gone. It is a link to a way of life that most people will never experience. It is a link to my childhood. That table is my history. Alison |
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© Copyright 2007 Alison - All Rights Reserved | |||
Larry C
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286United States |
Yup, amazing the surprising places we find fond memories. Thanks for sharing. If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, |
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
Enjoyed...James |
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