On any given day, you will find our kitchen island riddled with news papers, mail, the local shop n swap, candy and even medication.
But our kitchen table...
Polished with the chairs pushed in.
Our table is a sacred place.
It's where homework is done, meals are eaten and memories are made.
I was raised "At The Table".
It's where I gained my manors, my morals and the ability to look a person in the eyes when speaking.
Words spoken were "please", "thank you", "may I", "yes mam" and "no sir".
As I sat with my elbows off the table and napkin in my lap, I waited for My Daddy to set down, before I started to eat.
Prayers weren't always said, out loud, At The Table.
Trust me, I said many a prayer At The Table!
Conversations happened At The Table.
I remember two conversations very clearly.
I was 17.
It was October of my senior year in high school.
I was pregnant with The Big Boy.
The first conversation was with my mother.
Oh, the words that were spoken to me.
They still resonate through me to this day.
I swear, that woman hated me and probably still does.
The second was with My Daddy.
My Daddy was a pipeline welder and built oilfield compressor stations.
He would be away from home several days at a time, sometimes even weeks.
He was working in Texas.
Although I knew my mother had already told him, I knew I HAD to set At The Table and tell him myself.
Oh, the fear I had!
My Daddy, much like Flower Boy, was a man of very little words.
When he spoke, you listened.
I remember Daddy and I talking about my options.
He gave his opinions.
I regret not listening to one.
It was a long time before I could forgive myself.
I should have never married that boy.
From this, I vowed to raise my boys At The Table.
In the home my boys were raised, there was a quaint little breakfast nook.
It had two large windows.
The area was always bright.
We had a retro 50's style drop leaf table.
We ate every meal there.
There was no television anywhere to be heard.
The table was cleared, after homework, and set with dishes for the meal.
Today, Drewman is rarely home in the evenings.
He is a busy young man with work, school and church activities.
Our breakfasts are eaten on the run, as we all leave home at different times.
Lunches are eaten during work and school.
His Momma PYG, she is the youth director at our church, makes certain her kids set At The Table a few times a week.
She provides them lunch one day per week and Wednesday evening, during youth, they have a family dinner.
For this, I am thankful.
When Drewman is home, our meals are At The Table.
His college essentials were done At The Table.
His conversations about his future, with The Big Kids, have been done At The Table.
When The Big Kids come home, all meals are At The Table.
We laugh, catch up on each others lives and have great conversations.
Flower Boy loves when The Big Kids come home!
He jokes it's the only time I cook.
Truly, it is The Big Kids that do the cooking.
We are blessed!
This morning, as I set At The Table, it is 4:14am.
I type this post knowing I did right At The Table.
Thanks for listening.