“Come to the table, food is served,” mommy called Nikki and Neil.

Both came rushing inside, “wash your hands first,” mommy widened her eyes with love.

She fed them and listened to them by looking into their eyes. I stopped (though I have a wooden heart) to smell the roses.

Whether it was dining, doing small chores, embroidery, homework or playing cards; mommy and family’s each every activity revolved around me.

 Mommy’s cup of tea with the newspaper after seeing off everyone in the morning relaxed me the most, and the afternoon gossip gathering while the kids did their homework was my favorite time of the day.

Yes, I am the kitchen table of this lovely household…

One day dad brought a magazine and showed some pictures to mommy, her face broadened with a smile, ‘it’s beautiful!’

Dad announced, ‘we’ll change it tomorrow.’

Mommy looked at me; gently put her hand on me.

The whole night I struggled with the thoughts of being parted, being taken over to some strange household.

 It was Sunday morning; mommy and dad went out after lunch. I was scared of being replaced. The bell rang; Nikki and Neil ran to open the door. I really wanted to be a real object so that I may not feel anything at all, but I felt…I felt that my cover was being changed. It was a designer table cover just for me. I could feel the gentle stroke of their hands. They both looked at me and smiled.

I wished I could say, ‘Love you mommy…love you daddy!’

 

 

 For Writer’s post: The Kitchen Table