Relative Something

When Mom let us have the old Hays family dining room table, the one thing she required in exchange was that we host the Thanksgiving meal on it. Whenever it is time to haul the 5 center leaves out of storage, to stretch the table to conference-room size, I experience a flood of memories, and an overwhelming sense of appreciation for the honor of being given possession of the family table.

This table was in the farm-house of Intervale Ranch where my family lived when I was born. It has been with me for most of my life. I snapped this shot of the expanded length prior to covering it with 12 place settings and more foods than should be allowed yesterday.

Another happy Thanksgiving is in the books.

Ah, but that’s not all. This year we get two versions. Yesterday, Cyndie’s side of the family came over. On Sunday, the Hays side of the family with gather. We’ll keep the table extended for the days between. That will prolong my period of enjoying the memories conjured up when I see it in all its glory of being full-size.

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