To each other, we were as normal and nice as the smell of bread. We were just a family. In a family even exaggerations make perfect sense. John Irving
I've been having a small issue with my table lately....sort of a kitchen conundrum, so to speak. It's not a riveting social issue or even a hotbed political one. Just a small, ordinary problem. Tiny in some ways, but large in other ways that only other mothers would understand. I cried over the place mats. It occurred to me while preparing for dinner, that I only needed to put out two place mats to complete the setting of our table. Four place mats were no longer necessary. My table only needed half a set. My passing thoughts were mixed....thinking that the other two I could put back to use as replacements in case of old age spills (yikes!), the thought that I didn't really need to prepare dinner anymore-we could just have cheese and crackers every night, that I could switch between "bucket, bag or box" takeout for the rest of my life, or that the evening repast would be an endless cycle of chips, slimfast, and old bagels. Somehow, the metaphor hit too close to home. The table looked too empty. Channeling my inner Scarlett O'Hara, I set the table with four place mats. I'm already preparing for spring break and the summer to follow. I know---more is changing at my house than the place mats. When the leaves fall from the trees this fall, the leaves on my table will come down too, but for now, the table's set for four.
