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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1657553
by Jules
Rated: E · Monologue · Family · #1657553
An important place in my life.
A place to eat. A place to do homework. Have a serious discussion. Play games. Sit and think. Sit and read. Sit and cry. A place to laugh. A place to drink. These are all activities that can take place at a table. It can be round, square, oblong or oval. It can be formal with the “fancy” place settings or informal with baby’s high chair attached to the end. It can be cluttered with the mail, your purse and keys strewn about or wiped spotless with a plastic overlay. It can be crowded. It can be vast. It can wobble and if your family is anything like mine, there are sugar packets or a wad of paper towels tucked under the wobbly leg. A table can be many things. A place to re-evaluate your life. A place to avoid your life. A place full of memories both good and bad.

For my family, it has been all of these things. The amounts of memories that have taken place at a table in my life are numerous. Most of them important in their own right and some of them forgotten just because, how are you supposed to remember it all? As far back as I can remember my family has eaten the majority of our meals at the table. There were a few meals that took place in front of the television but those really aren’t the point of my story but I digress. I’m going to make an assumption as to say that like most Hispanics, food was/is a big part of my life. Naturally, if there was food at the table, I was there. This was the key ingredient in how a table became an important part of my life.

Of course, growing up I wasn’t aware of what a key role the table had but now that I am in my mid-twenties, I have realized the central role some wobble old table had in my life. Whether it was going to my Granma’s house when I was little and eating my breakfast while she sat and drank her coffee or just sitting with my parents and my little sister a few years back while all of us talked about our how our day went. The table served as our meeting place. Our hub. Our core. The source of our lives, if you will.

Now, that I am an adult, the amount of time I spend at a table is a little more limited. Just today, I attended a birthday party for one of my cousins at my aunts’ house. Before dinner, we played a game at the table. After dinner was finished we just sat and talked, around the table. Then my cousin opened her gifts, at the table. And then, being blessed with the gift of gab, we sat and talked some more, around the table. It was perfect.

As of late, the thought has crossed my mind as to whether or not I want a family of my own. Well, the answer to said question is still up in air and until I can decide if I want a husband and/or kids this is what I know; I will have a table and if you’re lucky enough to be someone I care about you will get to sit at it.

© Copyright 2010 Jules (jewlze210 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1657553