The Little Vintage Dining Table that Could!

The Little Vintage Dining Table that Could!

When we moved into our rental home last August, our moving van was filled to overflowing.

Pillows, blankets, baskets, pots, and pans. And boxes and boxes of Christmas decor.

But there was one piece that was definitely missing as we unloaded all of our belongings on move-in day.

Something we hadn’t been without…well, EVER!

A dining room table.

Our old table. The one I had spent hours and hours sanding, painting, and aging, had gone with the sale of our house.

Buying one had been at the top of my list, but we were also still in the middle of a pandemic. Everything from air fresheners to Ziploc bags was in short supply.

And furniture? Well, as the saleslady said at the fourth store we stopped at on our search for the perfect table…’Good luck. Our stock is low and delivery has been pushed out for several months!’

So August came and went. And then September too.

Still, we had no dining table.

During my search, my mom had mentioned several times that we could use her old dining room table. She had replaced it with a much smaller version years ago, and it was just collecting dust on her front porch.

When I brought up my concerns at the beginning of October about not having a table for Thanksgiving, mom once again offered up that old table.

To be honest, even though I’d celebrated many birthdays, hundreds of Sunday dinners, confirmation, baptism and so much more sitting at that old table, I seriously couldn’t remember what it looked like anymore. All I did know was it was at least 50 years old, and wouldn’t be anything close to what I had my heart set on.

So…once again I thanked my mom for her generous offer, but graciously declined.

A little over a week later, I was doing a happy dance around the small space where my brand new, perfectly perfect, EXACTLY what I wanted table would sit!

After months of searching, I had FINALLY found THE dining room table. Yes, it was a bit more expensive than I’d planned. But it was everything I’d ever wanted in a dining table and more. So for me, it was worth every cent.

I couldn’t have been happier if Martha Stewart had called and invited me over for tea!

Two days later my happiness turned to tears when I opened the email from the store we’d purchased my dream table from. They were terribly sorry, it said. But the item we had ordered was no longer available.

When I told my mom the horrible news the next day, she once again mentioned her old table. I was so depressed and angry about my dream table. That instead of being gracious, I snapped at her and said I didn’t want her old ugly table. I wanted my dream table. Immediately, I felt terrible for acting like a spoiled child.

But as usual, mom understood, and we ended the call with her reminding me that if all else failed, the table was there if we needed it.

For the next few days, I sulked about, and soon before I knew it November had arrived. By then I had accepted the fact that we wouldn’t have a dining table for Thanksgiving. The only thing we could do was set up a couple of card tables and enjoy the holiday.

A week later I went over to Mom’s to pick up one of her card tables and grab a few things from our storage pile on the front porch.

There, sitting in the corner, partially covered with blankets, was mom’s old dining table.

I must have walked by it a hundred times when we were unloading our stuff but hadn’t really paid much attention to it.

As I pulled the pile of blankets off and exposed the top of the table, I couldn’t help but smile. If only that table could talk, I thought to myself.

Our family had indeed shared so many meals at the table. There had also been plenty of celebrations and losses too.  Yes, that old table had been the solid foundation where every major event had occurred.  It had withstood hundreds of spills and hot plates. Diaper changes, Baby walkers. Tears of joy and heartache aplenty.

Staring down at the table’s cob-web-filled legs, I remembered the dining table we’d left behind at the old house. It had been very similar to this one. Nothing fancy. Just a simple table meant for living life.

It too had seen our family through some happy times, and some very tough ones too.

Because that’s what a dining table that was meant for a family does.

I realized at that moment that the reason I hadn’t found my perfectly perfect dining table, was because I was looking at all the wrong tables.

The table our family needed was one that could withstand a seven-year-old boy’s excitement when he wins Crazy Eights and accidentally spills his soda. Or a little girl’s sticky fingers and an electric car gone wild. It would also have to hold up to hot glue drips, paint splatters, color crayon mishaps, cheesy pizza night, rowdy board games, and overflowing cups of hot chocolate.

The perfectly perfect tables I was looking at were just that. Perfect. Something you don’t want to mess up or are afraid will get ruined.

Suddenly, that old table covered in thick layers of dust and cobwebs didn’t look so bad after all.

Sure it was old and not even close to my dream table. But it was solid and sturdy. And it had already been broken in by me and my siblings.

If it could withstand us, it could withstand anything.

Later that night, Michael and I set up the table in the spot in our dining area that had stood bare for months.

It was odd, but that old table seemed to fit perfectly in the space.

After the table was put in place, Michael and I went to the basement to grab the new chairs I had bought when I ordered that so-called perfectly perfect table.

As we made our way upstairs I told Michael the chairs were way too modern for the table and they would probably look funny. But at least our family would have somewhere to sit for Thanksgiving dinner.

Once we had pushed the chairs up against the table, I stepped back, preparing myself for the disappointment I would feel because our dining space wasn’t going to look as I had envisioned it to be.

But I was wrong.

That old table had surprised me again.

Not only did it fit perfectly within the space. But it was a perfect match for those new modern chairs too.

Maybe it was because I was upset that I’d wasted so much time looking for just the right table. Or maybe I was just so darn happy I’d finally found it. Whatever the reason, when I sat down at that old table and had a good cry later that night I felt a familiar comfort. Like a childhood blanket or cozy pair of slippers.

Strong. Sturdy. And there to capture memories good or bad the moment they are made.

After all, that’s what any perfectly perfect dining table, meant for a family(This Family Anyway) does.

Who knows. Someday when we are settled in our forever home, I may begin another search for a dining table. But for now, I think mom’s old table has found its old family again and a new home.

What do you love most about your dining table? I’d love to hear in the comments!

Thank you so much for stopping by!

 

 

 

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