OLD PICNIC TABLE

 When we arrive at the mountains every year…one of the first things that we check…

is the status of our old picnic table that sits out on the deck.

Lovingly we clean off the dust that has settled through the falling leaves and winter cold, and get her ready to add new memories to the memories she already holds.

We clean the dust but leave all the marks and stains and scratches that over the years kept showing up…as our children and our grandchildren did all their growing up.

For two weeks every summer…away from work and it’s responsibilities 

this table is where we’d gather…while we learned how to be a family.

It’s where we’d talk…where we’d eat…where we’d hear the whistle of the the train…

It’s where we listened to the birds…where we played games and watched the rain.

It’s where we laughed…told jokes…and despite what my family says…not all of mine were bad… 

It’s where we painted rocks…told stories…and remembered Deborah’s mom and dad.

It’s where our family history was handed down…where our grandchildren…all 4

would sit, eat the same food, play the same games and listen to the same stories and jokes their mother and uncles had heard before.

And now that all our children and grandchildren are grown…you’ll still find Deborah and me sitting there…smiling as we stop to pick out memories still floating in the air.

Because that is the beauty of this table…where we’ve played and laughed and dined

when we leave…we take some memories with us…while leaving some behind.

This means after all the years of gathering at this table…even though our children and grandchildren are grown…when the two of us sit down to eat…we never dine alone.

Which is the reason, I imagine, when we leave the cabin every year…the last thing we always check…is that old picnic table

filled with memories 

that sits out on the deck.