Tables, especially sitting around a table, has been a basic part of my life since I can remember.
Some of earliest memories take place at the large dinner table with my parents and my brothers and sisters.
My brother Max always asks for a round table when we go out to eat. He says round tables make for better conversations, and talking while seated around a table is the important part of a meal.
What does the word table mean to you? What memories does it invoke? Is your table a kitchen table, a large table with matching chairs, a Formica covered table with mismatched chairs? Is your table in a favorite restaurant, a picnic table, a side table, a conference room table, or is it a work table?
Write a story or poem that comes from the thought of a table.
Would love to share it here on this blog.