I don't really like my kitchen table. It's a hand me down. From my in-laws. It's the perfect shape for the tiny breakfast area, though. For now I'll keep it.
However, the most amazing things are created and tended to at this table. Half my creative life occurs in this little spot. I have my afternoon tea here. I read wonderful magazines at this table.
It's the wonderful spot where I first used my breast pump (while nursing my babies). It's where my husband and I would land while caring for our sons when they were infants, up in the middle of the night.
The little oval, formica table top is where my husband and I discuss just about everything. Our home's remodels, decisions about his mom who has Alzheimer disease, whether or not we'll be on vacation this year and where to if we can go, what curriculum to purchase for the boys. And God. The church. Everything.
It's an amazing place.
I hide there some times. It's steady with traffic, though. You walk in from the kitchen, from the dining room and from the great room, from the laundry room and from the back door. Doesn't seem to be a place for hiding. But believe me. I can sit there for an hour and all the passersby don't even take notice of me. And I don't notice them. They rush to and fro as I sip my chamomile brew and read or draw or paint or contemplate.
From this spot is where this blog is born. My Mac is not in there, but it's close enough.
I'll ponder from the kitchen table. And walk over here and write to you.
Hope to hear from you, too!