UNDER THE TABLE

I've got a stash of ideas for blog posting. They're just thoughts I've had in passing and remembered to enter into the stash. It's been a busy but nondescript week here, so I thought to take a look. One line says "me and Joy under the table."  That would be my cousin Joy, and the table would be our grandmother's dining room table. It was a massive thing on two slab-like pedestals. We could sit there, each leaning on a pedestal, and converse to our hearts content. We weren't hiding - everyone knew where were were, and they could hear us from the kitchen. We couldn't have been more than four or five or so, because after that we'd never have fit.

I went googling for a suitable picture, and I found this one. Hoo-boy, wouldn't it have been fun for us two to have had iPads then. We'd have been there to this day.

There's something to be said about snug places under dining room tables, in window seats, or in a grownup's big, comfy chair.  The world is reduced to an area as small as we are, a space we can handle. The world is reduced to the equivalent of the womb, to the equivalent of a a hug. We all need that.