It is the Fall of 1985, and I’m ripening with my first child.
As my husband and I set up our first apartment in Aurora, Colorado on his Air Force Temporary Duty orders, we find a sturdy oak table with four chairs and an expansion leaf to add to our first Colorado home.
While we were in the Denver area we had our first baby, a daughter, and acquired the kitchen table that still sits in my home today in 2024.
Under the seats of the chairs is the phrase “Made in Yugoslavia” in wood carving block letters. A sign of the table’s beginnings and place in history.
I’ve served many meals on this table, three times a day, plus snacks for the 24 years my children were at home.
They learned to set a table, make food for their families, and create relationships through the mundane experiences of daily life in a family.
I remember when I was expecting my third baby that in my exhaustion one evening I sat a little too sturdily on the wooden seat. I could feel the baby’s head inside upon impact, and I silently apologized to him.
Our table stayed in climate-controlled storage for the four years we lived overseas. It awaited our return.
The table lived for 11 years under a telephone with a long cord on the wall next to the door to the garage. Teens seeking privacy would take the call in the garage almost closing the door.
For a while my daughter and her husband used the table until they got their own furniture. Servicing yet another family.
The table has seen pets come and go and now my cat Heaven Joy plays upside down through the rails on the chair backs as I dangle her favorite wand toy.
I live simply now. No dining room table to compete with.
The table has been an art table too, back in a tiny rental from 2017 to 2020.
It’s just me now; with Heaven Joy, too, of course.
Reflecting on life through the eyes of a kitchen table.
Valerie Montgomery
March 30, 2024
