Maybe it’s because of the cell phone. With a click of a button we can find out all the when and wheres. Photos. Google Maps.  I guess my grandparents had a similar device, they called it the kitchen table. Prompted not by clicks, but conversation, they could pull out the dates of every snowstorm, every wedding, death, birth, and pass it around the table faster than any screen. Do we have conversations like this any more? 

I’m all for progress. I use my phone daily. My computer to communicate with you. But I hope as you read this, you can slide your chair a little closer to the table. Lean into the conversation. Not just calculate the facts, but feel the words. Trace the palms on tables. The half empty coffee cups. Cookie crumbs. Lean on elbows (because there’s no formality here). Bury your head on shoulders. Catch the laughter. Wipe the tears. Dare the repeats and the “remember when”s.  

One of the greatest gifts I receive is when you tell me the story you remember while reading mine. And a new story begins. The conversation continues. Along with the love. Never a need to worry, this table is strong.