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The Fosters: the kitchen table
It’s the sort of kitchen table that’s never cleaned off. There’s always plates full of food or piles of books and papers. Sometimes there’s bags of groceries or piles of gift-wrapped packages. Depending on the season, it’s covered with a brilliant display of gloves and scarves or garden implements threatening to fall to the floor.
When the family is crowded around, chairs pushed in or pulled all the way out, it feels like a large space. It feels like it could hold a handful more without collapsing in on itself. Before it stops being a table and becomes a pile of timber.
While it looks like nails and glue hold it together, that’s just on the surface. What really holds it together are the emotions that swirl around it. Without the agony and the ecstasy, the boredom and joy, it would be just a table. Just a piece of furniture. The family, though, makes it a centerpiece and a treasure.
It’s the sort of kitchen table that’s never cleaned off. There’s always plates full of food or piles of books and papers. Sometimes there’s bags of groceries or piles of gift-wrapped packages. Depending on the season, it’s covered with a brilliant display of gloves and scarves or garden implements threatening to fall to the floor.
When the family is crowded around, chairs pushed in or pulled all the way out, it feels like a large space. It feels like it could hold a handful more without collapsing in on itself. Before it stops being a table and becomes a pile of timber.
While it looks like nails and glue hold it together, that’s just on the surface. What really holds it together are the emotions that swirl around it. Without the agony and the ecstasy, the boredom and joy, it would be just a table. Just a piece of furniture. The family, though, makes it a centerpiece and a treasure.
