It is a table for four. It hosts every dinner at home, serves as a punch and hors devours table, is the place to open birthday presents and eat birthday cake, hosts pumpkin carving in October, perhaps a turkey in November, and cookie decorating in December.
As the table has aged it has picked up scars. Some of the scars are from pencils scribbling out notes, essays and math problems. Other marks are from crosswords and newsprint ink rubbing off on the wood surface. Toward the edges of the table there are deep scratches from Emmons and Monte, the family cats. They love being on the table and will stand their ground if you try to push them off, sinking their back claws into the wood and swatting and hissing their way to the lip of the table. Many of the scratches run deep and have darkened over the years as the canyons of unfinished wood darken with grime and oily residue.
My family used to bother with the cats every time they would jump up on the table. After a couple of years we all tired of it. The scratches give the table character. A family lived and worked on and around this table. We left our marks too. I suppose the cats have that same right too.
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