God bless the kitchen table…

There is always something about the kitchen table.

The one common place where the events of our lives are held together with incredible memories.

Family gatherings, dinner parties, the kids and their friends after school and so much more.

So this is one I would like to share.

There I am surrounded with great and very dear girlfriends,

innocently sitting at a kitchen table with a few open bottles of wine after an amazing meal.


Our twenty year old voices have plans to have a few drinks and head out to a club to

relive our youth.

The interesting part is that our intentions seem reckless,

but as the wine begins to take effect,

 the laughing and sometimes tears streaming from our eyes take over,

and we slowly lose our momentum.

Every so often someone pipes up and throws the reminder out there

as to where we should go.

As quickly as that happens, someone starts a new story

and with yet another fill of the glasses,

off to memory lane and before we know it,

no one is making a move.

(of course each one of us with more than a few drinks  in us

are getting a little worried that any attempt to stand up may be a wee bit dangerous)

However, we hold our own.

Our voice levels increase, the laughing becomes even more hardy

(sorry to say that in our 40 something range, there is a strong chance one of us,

from all that laughing will lose bladder control)

gotta pee

Yet, we still hold our own.

(okay so at this point we are trying to hold something else, but you get the idea)

The one amazing thing is that kitchen table keeps us connected in a way that the memory of that night

doesn’t get lost.

We aren’t confusing ourselves as to what weekend it happened and mixing it into another weekend.

(not sure about any of you, but seems all my weekend partying out with girls always took place in the same weekend)

So the night moves on, no one is really going anywhere.

At this point of our lives, we all make sure to announce many times

how way past our bedtime this is,

but again, we hold our own.

(actually anyone trying to make it to the washroom is holding on to someone at this point)

That kitchen table holds more laughter and moments and it seems funny to me why more clubs don’t create that kind of atmosphere for us old chicks.

(but something tells me that no matter how close they tried to do it, it could never compare)

I was going to share more of  the events of the silliness that night

but all girls having their very own night

know full well,

that what happens at the kitchen table stays at the kitchen table.

(of course with that noise level thing, I am sure homes 4 blocks over heard us)

So let’s just say that I had an amazing night with some very happy girls I don’t get to see too often.

We all laughed harder than we did in months.

I believe at some point someone mentioned not feeling their lips.

(I was going to mention we were still holding our own, but it isn’t looking that way at this point is it?)

We compared the events of our lives with humour and forgot about the stress of our every day for that one night.

Nothing says let your hair down more than,

great friends,

open bottles of wine,

women who you can completely relate to with the stories you all share,

and above all…

the magic, strength and beauty of that kitchen table.

(of course the wine stained table-cloth through the course of the night, tells a completely different story)

wine stain

However  all you women out there who can completely relate,

know how beautiful that special night with the girls will always be,

and God willing

hold its memory and magic


Make it a great day everybody!