Staying Stylish in Suburbia

An ode to the kitchen table

Thursday, November 14, 2013



In our family we make it a point to come together at the table for dinner at the end of each day. It is one of my favorite times, a chance to slow down and reconnect. Some of my best memories are at the table, bustling around the kitchen, chopping vegetables and chatting with family and friends. Of course I can also remember arguing and crying around it too. Which only goes to show how all encompassing a simple table can be. It is at the heart of the home, a safe and central place to experience so many aspects of life. Now a days Esmae is becoming more involved in our dinner conversations. She picks up on certain words and tries to expand on them in her serious toddler talk. It's pretty much the cutest thing ever.
Chalkboard Art - Kitchen Chalkboard Art - Dining Room Art - Kitchen Print - 11x14 Print - Hand Lettering
With Thanksgiving coming up, a holiday centered around the table, I thought it would be nice to do a post in honor of that particular space. And what better way to do so than with poem that speaks to the table in all its complexities. Joy Harjo's, Perhaps the World Ends Here, can be found (along with many other wonderful poems) in a collection of poetry all about food called, The Hungry Ear. The editor of the book, Kevin Young states that much like the best foods, the best poetry is also made from scratch. I couldn't agree more. I hope you all enjoy your time around the table this year and into the next. I leave you with this poem! xoxo


Perhaps the world ends here


The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.
The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.

We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.

It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.

At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.

Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.

This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.

Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.

We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.

At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.

Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.

2 comments :

  1. i grew up in the days of sitting around the table. then it fell a way to gathering in front of the tv, so I'm really glad to see it making a come back. thanks for reminding me and maybe others too of this all imporant place not just in our home but in our lives as well.

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  2. You are so welcome! I'm so glad this post meant something to you. I really appreciate you stopping by to read and comment. xoxo

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