a new table
I really want a new dining room table.
Which is funny, because I haven't had dinner at my current table in, oh ... approximately 3 months. But I've grown to hate it - perhaps, despite the old adage, distance has made my heart grow harder, and I've spent too many hours these last few weeks plotting its demise via Craigslist or a yard sale or pawning it off on some lucky friend.
There's nothing wrong with that table - except, of course, the broken snap on the pop-up leaf, and the one slightly wiggly leg (which, I believe, every well-used table should have).
What's wrong with that table - the unfortunate object of my transferred-emotions - is simply that it's not where I want it to be, and the right people aren't sitting around it.
So I'm shopping for a new table that I can't afford, nor do I actually have any place to put. This wandering summer of ours has been completely disorienting, wildly emotional, full of sweet new memories and a vague sense of homesickness for somewhere we can't name.
And as we wind down the hands of this 3-month clock ... 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 times we say good-bye and I head south and Price heads north, we quietly question the tomorrows that are making today so hard.
My mom likes to remind me that I came into the world a month early - and I've been impatient every since. And right now, I am impatient for a new dining room table ... for cherry-stained planks surrounded by brightly-hued metal chairs, with my rainbow plate collection started so many years ago by my sweet grandmother, and generous pours of wine and slices of cake being sipped and snacked upon by our dearest friends.
But I am impatient for more than a table. I am ready for what's next, for the big decisions and new surprises that the next few months will bring. I am ready to know my next chapter, even though I'm only halfway through this one.
And so my challenge each day is to live present, to soak up this season and the next one back in St. Louis, and to be kind to myself when I lack the emotional energy to face each day with a smile. At least I'm making it through, and I know there's always a long run after work, and glass of wine to come home to each day.
Grateful. Challenged. Blessed.