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A new table.

The small joy of a new table.

Up early to sit at our new table.
Our last table was Oregan, cut square and dark,
with thick tapered legs and a tiny draw to hold napkins and chopsticks and placemats.
It served us well for 20 years or so
holding up our food, our conversations, flowers, holiday planning, offloaded junk, folded laundry, kids craft, coffee, and elbows.

It never protested once. Well maybe once, with a brief but foreboding creak when I stood on it to fix a light.
We sold it for pennies on Facebook and spent an evening exchanging thankful messages with its new owner who told us how perfect it was for her.

Our new table is Redwood, long and light,
and it glows in the morning sun as I break it in.

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