My Grandmother’s Table

My Grandmother’s table was always bountiful. There was always a silver sugar bowl there. Mom describes when she was a kid she would go in to the dining room and quietly lift up the lid and sneak in little silver spoonfuls of sugar into her eager mouth.

When I left for Australia, or maybe on a trip back, my Grandmother told me to take something I wanted. While she was alive to see it. I remember saying, the only thing I want is the sugar bowl and your cornbread stick maker. She said, “You better take them now.” So I did. That would later prove to be a source of some consternation and bantering with my Mom.

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My Grandmother’s table was always filled with things that she felt she may need as she sat there reading her paper … or her Bible. Actually, I think she kept her Bible under her pillow so the table was mainly to get the news of the day (and that paper better be ready whenever she arose). Drink her coffee. Make calls. Receive people and go about her day.

She had her salt and pepper shakers; salt was her go to seasoning. She had her scissors and pens and erasers.

I remember one of the things that she loved when she visited me in Australia, well the then us, was a pink, clickable eraser. She was fascinated by it. I don’t even remember if she asked to take it, but it simply became hers as she did the daily paper: The Age.

I subscribed to it while she was there as I didn’t want her to miss her daily news. She read the newspaper thoroughly. My Grandmother took being in a different country, on a different continent, as she usually did. In her stride.

My Grandmother’s table held pictures and pitchers and other things from her Mom and papers and trinkets and … things.

My Grandmother’s table sometimes had to be hurriedly cleaned off when we had company. Or when we were having holiday dinners. It was amazing to see it clear of clutter. Clutter seemed to be attracted to the table much like a lodestone calls to matter.

My Grandmother’s table was love.

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