We lived, for the first year and a half in apartments. But finally, in the fall of 1998 we began looking for a house to buy. When we viewed our home for the first time, a 1930’s brick two bedroom, the owners had strategically placed vintage furniture throughout. The red top and black vinyl chaired 50’s dining set went perfectly with the chrome sinks and metal cabinets. Because it was perfect, I could not live in the house without it.

Not many meals were eaten at that table together and I still don’t know why. I was hurried and hurting- my life spiraling out of control, breaking anything in its path. Our marriage severed, along with Nick’s trust.

After Nick had moved out, I sat at the table all the time. Many mornings this is where I drank my coffee and tried to face the day while looking out the nearby window.
It is on that table my brother served me dinner after he moved in and sitting on the black vinyl chair is where Laurie made her decision to move east with me. And there also is where I first began to understand what I had lost when I drove Nick away.

Once in Nashville, on my own again in tiny apartments, I could find no room for the table. Its cheerful red and chrome style did not fit my new life. Before I moved to Alabama, I sold it to an aspiring musician who lived next door. I have regretted this much the same way any man who’s ever been the previous owner of a 1960’s Mustang might.

I have thought about going back to the neighbor and offering her $100 for it – more than what I sold it for. But it makes no sense, especially in these times when I have decided to let go and money is tight.

I have never felt at home sitting at any kitchen table since. But when I do, I know I won’t again take it for granted.

Penny René