I believe in my great grandma's kitchen table. Most of my first memories were formed sitting around that circular table. I knew her by the name Grandma Chippy, a name bestowed upon her by my cousins and me because of the various assortment of chips she always had at her house. The many bunny shaped cakes, the piles of candy that would be split evenly after an Easter egg hunt, and the fresh baked rolls nestled in a bowl in the center of the table are all ingrained in my mind. The large print calendar and television remote became toys for my cousins and me. Sitting around my great grandma’s table, we celebrated countless birthdays and holidays.
When you have a large family like ours the kitchen table doesn’t end where the surface of the table stops; it extends through the whole house. People propped plates on their knees while holding a baby or stood while they ate.
I never knew my Grandma Chippy when she wasn’t attached to her oxygen. That didn’t stop her from smoking and putting the butts into a paper bag taped to the kitchen table. Even when it got towards the end when she couldn't tell me apart from my cousins. I still always wanted to be in that house. Her house was always filled with love and family.
She inspires me to keep my family as close as she did. She inspires me to bake homemade rolls for every family meal. She inspires me to buy a house with a big tree in the backyard so my great grandchildren can make lasting memories building fairy houses and playing make believe. She inspires me to be a strong woman. I would do anything to go back to that cramped little house filled with love.
When we inevitably had to sell her house after she passed we didn’t know what to do with the kitchen table. It was like we couldn't let ourselves get rid of it. So, we did the only logical thing, we cut it up. Now we all have a small physical piece of her lasting legacy. She taught me that family and an old wobbly kitchen table are the most valuable things in life
