The Tablecloth. . . Ruined or a Tapestry of Love?

Posted by on Sep 15, 2011 in Blog, Home Is Where The Story Starts, Uncategorized | 2 comments

The other morning we were eating breakfast when my husband dropped a blueberry from his pancake on the tablecloth.


“Oh, no. It’s going to stain,” he said.


I just smiled.


The fact that there will be a new stain on my tablecloth doesn’t bother me one bit. Not on this tablecloth. For me it will just be another bit of history, right there for us to see.


This particular tablecloth is rather old. It is one that belonged to my mother. It is a cotton tablecloth. It has red and blue flowers on it.  It is bright and cheerful. It has a small child’s fingerprints all over it.


Yep, that’s right. Smack in the middle of the table is a little hand print. Or two. It looks like a child with some kind of greasy, inky, something on his or her hands climbed up on the table and put his/her hands smack in the middle of the tablecloth.


I love the little hand prints. I don’t know whose they are. I can’t ask my mother since she is in heaven. I think it was my younger brothers but then I have no proof of that. It could have been me.


At any rate, I like to see them there. I like the fact that my mother kept the tablecloth, even though it was “ruined”. It reminds me that people are more important than things.


And now, here we are some forty years later adding more stains. I wonder if anyone will question where that stain came from someday? Will they see it as ruined? Or, will they like me, see it as the precious memory of a Saturday morning breakfast with the man I love? I hope they see love.


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  1. Missy

    Miriam, that’s beautiful. B. is very blessed to have you!