About A Table
I bought this table for twelve dollars in upstate New York when I was a sophomore in college.
I found it for sale in a barn in between a pile of dusty antiques and throw away couches.
There was something about it I loved but it needed a lot of work.
I kept it my dorm and put my answering machine on it. When I graduated, it came with me.
In every apartment I lived in, no matter how cramped my space, this table found a temporary purpose.
The wood stayed bare. I kept waiting for inspiration to strike. But nothing stuck.
I finally painted it white. It stayed just like this for a few years.
The summer before I was married, I decided it was time to take care of the table. The first thing I did was strip off the old paint. By now the wood underneath was looking moldy so I pulled the top layer off and used an electric sander to smooth it down. I’m not much of a furniture restoration expert, but I did my best.
I might as well have painted the word, Anticipation, across the top, because that’s what I felt every time I looked at it. What was it waiting for?
Sanding all the little knobs was tricky.
It was another year later before I finished sanding down the bottom shelf.
I put a fresh coat of white on the legs and had it on display at my wedding. We placed my mom’s old typewriter on it and our guests typed us notes. The table had been with me for so long at this point it felt like a friend at the wedding.
But I still had no idea what to paint. For fifteen years, it waited for me patiently.
And then one night it happened.
People have told me stories about how right before they gave birth they cleaned the kitchen floor, re-tiled the bathroom, or wallpapered the bedroom. It’s called, nesting.
Some people nest with a sponge. As it turns out, I nest with a paint brush.
The night before my daughter was born, I finished the table.
It now sits in her bedroom and belongs to her. It finally found it’s purpose.
See more furniture designs I’ve created.