Around the Table
The seven us, packed tightly around the kitchen table,
laden with garden veggies and meat from field or stream,
sat in our designated places at dinner and supper
and had lively conversations about how the day went.
I always leaned my chair back on two legs.
Mom told me to stop or I’d fall, but I never did.
My three older sisters moved out one summer.
It got quiet at our house with just my little sister and me.
That year, our church hired a summer youth pastor.
We took turns having him over for supper each week.
We chatted calmly around the table, with elbow room.
Then one week my three sisters came home for a visit.
We squeezed the pastor in and I’ll never forget his face.
His head bobbed trying to keep up with the conversation.
His eyes wide, he wore a half-dazed expression as if he
wondered what kind of hurricane was passing through.
There’s nothing like big family noise around the table.