My Wooden Table

My Wooden Table

When it was new, I remember
enjoying dinner
on its bare wood.
No table cloth was needed.

I loved the look of the
untreated surface, the feel
of the rough grain
against my skin.

A spill? A spill didn't
matter. A wash rag and
towel made everything
all right.

With time, the wooden
exterior began to warp, it's
smooth, flat façade no
longer level.

Spills grew into
disasters, each leaving
the table unusable for a
longer period of time.

One day, I realized it was
all but worthless. Too
unsightly and deformed for
hosting dinner.

Many years it sat like that,
unused and rejected,
forgotten and forsaken,
nothing but an eyesore.

Beneath this damaged round,
however, sat an
oaken base of
enduring strength.

A special friend recognized its
value and helped me find a
suitable covering. We've enjoyed eating on this
sturdy table ever since.

Originally written on 5/25/2008