If a piece of furniture could have a passport, ours would be a frequent flyer. Our table has moved with us to five countries and weathered numerous house moves. If it were a child, it might need therapy. Ironically, it’s provided my family with all sorts of necessary therapy to ease our globetrotting life. It’s given us a gathering point and safe haven, rooting us and strengthening our family traditions, while connecting us to new friends and our adopted cultures. When I am asked where I feel is my home, I say it’s wherever my kitchen table is.
We purchased our farm-style table more than 20 years ago in Ain, France, near the western border of Switzerland, where we lived at the time. It was the first piece of furniture my husband and I purchased together, and quite possibly the best. Rustic and massively constructed from reclaimed oak, it reflected the charm and character of our 18th-century Swiss farmhouse while providing a sturdy nucleus for a family and social life that revolved around food, friends, and entertaining. It was warm and intimate enough for two and expansive enough to seat 12. It was a place for morning coffee, girlfriend chats, home office needs, and lively dinner parties. When our children entered the picture, it provided a sturdy and forgiving canvas for homework, crafts, and tea parties—nicks, scrapes, and spills welcome.
