Written by contributor Emily Walker of Remodeling This Life.
My kitchen table was given to me by my parents. It’s the same kitchen table that I ate dinner at every night when I grew up. My parents, brother and I each had our own spot at the table.
I have many memories of the meals we ate, the stories we shared, and things we did at that table. I remember sitting around that table making Christmas cookies each year. I remember the year my cousins came over, and we all made gingerbread houses together at that table. I remember getting sick at that table, laughing at that table, and crying at that table.
And today, it’s that same table where my kids are making memories—sharing meals with us, telling stories about their days, laughing, crying, getting sick, making cookies, doing craft projects.
After all these years, the table is not as pretty as it used to be. There are specks of glitter crusted to it that will only come out the day we decide to sand it down and refinish it. There’s glue stuck to it. There’s stray paint from craft projects and home renovations.