Just a table

It's just a table.

I know that.

I promise.

But it's also a lot of memories. 

I was dusting my couch table the other day and I started to tear up--and it wasn't the dust stinging my tear ducts. 

(Go ahead and make fun of me... I won't blame you.)

This is the table my mom bought for me.

She wanted to buy me something pretty for our new house.

We had just purchased our first home. 

A little townhouse with three levels and beautiful finishes. 

So, we went shopping at one of the two furniture stores in my home town. We looked all through the store and I found this table that I loved. It felt kind of vintagey to me and I loved the design in the wood, but it wasn't cheap.

So, we kept looking. We talked and laughed and my dad made fun of us for being silly girls.

In the end nothing compared and we came home with my beautiful... pricey, couch table.

That was in 2003.

With two, soon to be three, little boys in the house, my beautiful table did not stay perfect. 

L used it as a teething soother.

#1 stomped his dinosaurs across it.

And the Sheriff has used it many many times to dangle anguished super heroes from. 

The last four years Little Miss has made sure it's stayed decorated... with Barbies and stickers and plastic tiaras. 

Every Christmas it holds my favorite Christmas decoration, my nativity. I wrap white lights around it's legs and make a nativity scene across the entire thing.

Okay... so to anyone who walks into my house, it's just a table.

But to me, it's so much more.

I love that table.