Nights at the Round Table

Today for work N and I went to look at tables. At one store we saw a round table with a long linen tablecloth that nearly reached the floor. What a tablecloth, we both thought. N began to design accent runners while I imagined making a secret hide-out underneath, perfect for pirates and princesses or an afternoon camp out on a rainy day. Regardless of its purpose, we both thought the cloth to be beautiful and filed it away in our minds for future use.

We have a round table in our kitchen at home. Dad built it at the family shop. It's been in all three houses we've lived in and I suppose life wouldn't be the same without it. It's the perfect size for two to sit and share the newspaper and serves as an impromptu music stand in a string rehearsal if someone has forgotten theirs. (I used to shift my violin music from stand to table just for a change of scenery and a chance to look out the window.) It's the place to perch in the fall to watch the crab apple tree turn brilliant shades of golds and reds just outside the window and in the springtime birds eat breakfast while we do the same. At Christmas it's where we put the Swedish starters like the goat's cheese and the limpa bread to be eaten before Swedish dinner. It's where the angel stands suspending the star and singing praises to the heavens announcing the birth of the Baby Jesus. It's where Mom likes to put the latest high school pottery masterpieces. Currently Rich's creations reign supreme. His brightly colored five-in-one vase is there round the clock. Anyone who comes to visit gets a mini history lesson on Chard's magnum opus.

Upon the table's belly are lovingly plotted purple and green Crayola marker doodles from a day at the red brick house when my sister and I were feeling mischievous. It served as the canvas for play dough sessions on summer afternoons. Once my brother made a big salt dough pretzel and set it out on the table to dry in the sun, all curled and crisscrossed. Upon pretzel removal, like a child's shadow outlined in chalk, was the outline of a pretzel, branded into the wood. I used to trace the lines with my finger when I got bored.

In line today at the store N and I professed our love of round tables to each other, and then bought a square one, but the space calls for square. Round tables foster conversation. They look visually pleasing in a square room, and are easy to cozy up to with a large crowd. And, if you throw a large tablecloth or giant sheet over the top, I'm certain they're the perfect framework for a pretty awesome fort.