Turning tables

When I had my tiny house built, I envisioned my eating table dropping down from the exterior wall perpendicular to the kitchen.  This would allow for two persons to enjoy a meal with adequate room for a chair on each long side.  But the builder did not realize what I wanted, and put the large window in the exact spot where the table was to be attached.

Instead, then, my lovely live-edge cherry table drops from a cabinet and slides out into the room parallel with the kitchen.  This unsatisfactory arrangement necessitated the construction of a bench from the last good board of the hundred-year old wood from the Holmes house.  I like the bench, but it’s hard to navigate around the table, over the stairs, and onto the bench.  It’s rarely used.  Instead, company sits on a small chair at the short end of the table.  For my daily meals, I face the window with my back to the room.

Tonight I turned the tables on myself.  From the bench, with the front door open, I listened to the sounds of the park as I skimmed through social media.  I studied the accumulation of clutter on my counter; the dangling curtain in the guest sleeping loft; and the cobwebs on the ceiling.  I sipped cool water and reflected on my day.

Later, I saw a post from the person whom I have come to regard, with a fair degree of sorrow, as one of the few people in the world who genuinely loathe me.  The post had me as its subject and a markedly unpleasant inference.  But as I watched, it disappeared.  Maybe the person thought better of the comment.  I sighed and turned away from the computer.  I could have been upset, but I let it go.

Darkness has fallen now; and soon, I shall wash a few dishes and settle for the night.  I’m not much for bedtime prayers, but I have some guardian angels to thank; and one or two whom I want to dispatch to watch over President Carter, my son, and some friends whom I know are struggling.  I’ll ask a special, sweet cherub to find the person who seems to despise me and soothe that person’s soul.  Angels abound; I can spare a few.

It’s the eleventh day of the seventy-first month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.

One thought on “Turning tables

  1. Genevieve

    while you are sharing angels with President Carter (a fine choice,) please save one for RBG as well! Despise is such a strong sentiment, I am sorry that you have been on the recieving end of that. Enjoy having your front door open while you can. Here in Kansas we are bundled up as the strong winds have blown in from the North with only a touch of the white stuff, but an extra large serving of bone chill.


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