Cheese Pie

I’ll never be a minimalist.  There will always be lots to look at and talk about at our house. I sat down at the table this morning and realized I could tell you a lot about my family and my life’s wandering path without even getting up from the table.

Our kitchen table and two of the chairs belonged to Dave first and they’ve been ours for eleven years.  Another chair belonged to my paternal great aunt and matches a desk in our office. It has a distinctive and strange finish that was all the rage way back when.  The chair matches a desk that now sits in our office holding a printer and supplies.  The desk and chair were my Dad’s before them came to me. Actually, they were Dad’s and then stayed at Mum’s and the chair sat in her dining room for years, paired with a different desk altogether.

The two chairs that sit opposite Aunt Audrey’s chair belonged to my Grammie. Grammie’s chairs are made from a very light wood and the finish has now almost worn away, leaving irregular marks and scuffs from the long life of the chairs. One chair has a celery green seat and the other is dark maroon. They’re smooth and lovely but now need to be checked carefully before anyone even thinks of sitting on them.  I know how the back of these chairs smell, how they feel against my face, how the leather seats felt against my once small palms.  

These chairs were in my Grammie’s kitchen when I was little.  She had other chairs that were tippy and another one that was good for climbing but these are the chairs she used when I first went for visits and sleepovers.  I remember turning one around to sit at the table with my chest against the back, legs under me or on either side, leaning in to see whatever Grammie was doing.  I sat while she visited with friends, watching them play cards and playing with and eventually learning to shuffle a pile of old cards of my own. As a three or four year old I watched Grammie and others make pies (likely for a UCW or WI event or maybe a special occasion).  I wanted to make my own pie but didn’t like any of the flavours they suggested so we ended up making a half-sized cheddar cheese pie for me to try.  

The chairs and her table became mine when I moved to my first apartment.  They were more functional at first but they’ve become less and less useful over the years.  I want to have them fixed but I don’t know how to arrange it and worry about losing some of the scuffs and oils and marks that tell me the chairs’ stories.  

. . .

This morning’s prompt caused me to take a look at what was piled up on the table and then see the small piles that were lined up along the cupboard.  Dave and I have had the flu and colds for weeks and small messes have faded into the background.  Sitting at the table, everything suddenly jumped out at me.  In between responding to the prompt and writing this post, I’ve done laundry, unloaded the dishwasher, wiped down the cupboards, thrown out reams of fast food coupons and put away books. I’ve vacuumed and replaced falling-apart things with new things and eaten lunch.  The view from here is much more clear than it was this morning.  I am going out shortly to visit with my sister’s dog, Lulu (beach dog above!), get a few groceries, pick up my lovely husband then settle in for a quiet day.  I’ll be better able to enjoy tomorrow’s holiday now that things are a little tidier.  I don’t enjoy housework the way some people do but there’s satisfaction in what I’ve accomplished today.