The Heart of a Table
The Heart of a Table
The ancient wooden table.
The dining room table my family gathered at tonight to enjoy a meal together.
But before my first bite of chicken reaches my mouth, I hear my mom tell my dad:
I need a new dinner table, Husband.
My fork involuntarily stops moving.
I’ve heard her say this before, at almost every meal.
But that doesn’t make her comment any less sharp.
I look down at the dark wood that supports our plates and admire it.
It’s covered in glitter, glue, and paint from my childhood crafts.
There are some scratches so deep, crumbs get stuck in between.
I see water ring stains where my sister and I forgot to use our coasters.
And there are bite marks on the legs from the dog.
My dog is dead.
Memories take over my thoughts as I recall the cause of each blemish.
Why does she want to get rid of it?
It’s beautiful.
A silent tear falls from my eye and stains my reddened cheeks.
I fight back a sniffle.
Honey, are you okay?
My mom asks me, concern jams her question.
Her eyebrows furrow into a caterpillar on her face.
I nod.
Just thinking.
I tell her.
I pick at the food on my plate, no longer having an appetite.
This is killing me.
The thought of our table in a landfill or in a stranger's home.
This is killing the kindergartener who would sit at this dinner table and craft for hours.
This is killing the homeschooler who did endless hours of schoolwork here during the lowest time of her life.
This is killing my already dead dog who loved to leave his scratch marks in the wood from his countless attempts at counter surfing.
This is killing the family I once knew who shared the deepest of laughs.
Hey mom?
She looks back over at me, giving me her attention.
Can I have the table?
I ask her with a crack in my voice.
Relief floods her eyes and her forehead wrinkles disappear, a smile spreads across her face.
Yeah, Honey, of course you can.
The Voice
January 2024
January Is an Icicle
The clock was frozen in amber, but now frost creeps up to crack the warm glow. The minute hand trembles, then moves in wistful whirls. The Christmas tree slumps, its shiny tears clinking against the w...
The You That You Are
I love the you that you are when you are alone, The you that you are when you’re at home, When you look with soft eyes at the cat, The you that you are when you step onto the doormat. I love the you ...
Turning pages
i find it so easy to turn a page there’s something hopeful in it something promising something that holds my hand and reassures me that the narrative continues that the story is seamless but it has co...
The Heart of a Table
The ancient wooden table.The dining room table my family gathered at tonight to enjoy a meal together. But before my first bite of chicken reaches my mouth, I hear my mom tell my dad:I need a new dinn...
The Blizzard
I hardly knew her at all, wasn’t expected to. She was just a kid at the High like anyone else, who had no car. She was sitting stubbornly on a bench, determined to get a ride. I knew what it was like ...
Nighttime
Nighttime: My eyes drooping.The night sky, black as paint.The nocturnal still venture out in these ungodly hours. No sunlight or moonlight to guide us home. Just the cars in front of us, fleeing like...
Run With The Hunted
It wasn’t intended to be anything more than a brief stroll along the forest's edge. She was never meant to stray from the cover of the treeline, but the city calls to her, as it tends to do. When face...
Dear Citizens of the World
Dear Citizens of the World, there are so many issues, every direction you look, every person you talk to, they have their issue, animal abuse or cancer or fair treatment of farm workers. In our world ...
And So I Refrain
she talks to me about the paper snowflakes she plans to make this weekend, and so i refrain from telling her that my bedroom has been decorated since the day after thanksgiving. she tells me about the...
Love Me Like Fog
love me like the fog –like the fog loves december –for the winter gets blurry and it's hard to remember hold me like the fog – like the fog holds the town – although i may not see you let me know you...
A Dream
The ocean pulls forward and back in a rhythmic motion, lying beneath a spectacular sunset. We marvel at the sight of the setting sun, leaving traces of pink and gold along the clouds, tracing its pain...
Pizza Delivery!
Fourteen miles to 432 Carolina Street, that was the only thing standing between Joseph Palmer and free pizza. It was also the only thing standing between me and a stern talking to by my boss. The task...
Soul-ly There
The moment I open the door, the brisk fall air greets me. I step into the aromas of nature. I recall the deep smell of pines in the winter.The peaceful awakening of rain and life in spring.The overwhe...
I Open My Eyes
I open my eyes, Seeing a barely knit community, Everyone ignoring those who they pass, Going only to those they relate to, Searching only for the great, Noticeable similarities. I open my eyes, Seein...
A Letter I Can't Send
oh darling, you'll never understand why i did what i did. I don't think i ever will either. i held on as long as i could. i would've held on longer, if i could stand lying to you. but i can't force my...
Past and Future
The world is full of problems. It made the man wonder why he bothered to get up in the morning. The sun was shining — but it was too bright. And was it possible for that baby across the street to wail...
As She Pleases
To be a woman is to be a banquet. Eclectic, savory, distinguished. A summer potluck of femininity; a Thanksgiving toast to masculinity; an Easter brunch with androgyny. It is to be the cow; the milk, ...
I Love
I love the way the light filters through treesand how the ocean sounds at nightand my feet sinking into the earthand bird song at sunriseand how my name sounds on your breathand my fingers dancing on ...