The Kitchen Table
“When we were children we lived in a story that we made up. But when I grew up the story wasn’t enough. I had to have something else, because the story wasn’t true anymore.”
East of Eden, John Steinbeck
Inspiration
Our kitchen table top was made from packing crates. Covered with a plastic cloth patterned to match the seasons it is the table my mom still uses. My dad was in the Army and we had returned to the states after his tour of Austria and Italy. There were six inexpensive chairs purchased in Italy but there was no kitchen table. Sitting on my dad’s lap I banged my knees on the huge gray trunks that held up the makeshift tabletop before he added four proper legs at the wood shop at Fort Bragg. So much has happened around that kitchen table, the history of our family is embedded in every piece of scrap wood.
