This Table

 Play

Momma’s fried chicken hot off the stove
Billy calls leg but he’s too slow
Chocolate milk smile on Abbey’s face
We talk about the best parts of our days
I sat at countless conference tables doing business
But nothing beats a front row seat at the table in our kitchen

The table is the center of our daily livin
We say grace thanks for what we’d been given
We carved scary pumpkins learned long division
We blew out candles made birthday wishes
Dad taught me to play his flattop Gibson
Sittin round the table in our kitchen

Cut from the oak tree where we used to play
My father’s gift on our wedding day
A stain in the center where the daffodils leaked
A broken corner from a Peter Pan leap
And now it’s scratched and starting to fade
But memories run through the wood deeper than the grain

Where I held my Friday night date inquisitions
We signed the papers for college admission
My wife and daughter made her wedding decisions
We shared our fears, hopes, and ambitions
Late night heart to heart words of wisdom
Sitting round the table in our kitchen

That table was built by hand with love to last, to last
It out lived my father, the night he passed
We gathered round that table we all raised a glass

Life runs through this table if you listen
I can still hear my daddy strum his Gibson
Abbey’s carved initials need a placement to be hidden
A red wine stain from the party at Christmas
We opened our hearts and shared our livin
Sittin round the table in our kitchen

The story behind the song…
As I sat one day at the table in our kitchen I noticed all of the marks on the table. And I started to think about all the living that is shared, moments that are celebrated around this table and tables like it everywhere. This song captures some of those milestones and how a piece of wood can hold such memories within its grain.