I'm all moved into my new house and it already feels like home
It has a garden and a porch with a swing
And best of all, a huge gourmet kitchen with a white wood table
that seats four although it's just me.
I sit here at this kitchen table, a small grin on my face;
It's not the first kitchen table but it's the best.
I remember back to my parents table;
covered in a felt and plastic green flowered cloth
It was all the rage in those days.
I did my homework there, had long talks with Mom
And watched the love of my life Billy
being grilled by Daddy before our first date
and again when he asked me to marry him four years later.
The next table was in our first apartment
It sat in the hallway next to the living room
The kitchen was so tiny, Billy could almost touch wall to wall
But you could see the bedroom window from the living room window
And I thought that was simply divine.
Billy did his college homework at night on that first kitchen table
I tried to be a journalist while waitressing during the day
Neither one of us made those dreams come true
And there were more kitchen tables to come.
I stopped writing and had babies
And much to his disgust and dismay, Billy became a truck driver
But I was the daughter of a blue collar worker
So it seemed just fine to me
I had four kids to raise
and a full kitchen table
And no time for pretentiousness
Years went by, the kids grew and left,
and the tables got smaller
Billy shut himself in his office and I didn't mind
I had the rest of the house to myself
and felt intruded on when he walked through
It seemed one morning we both woke up
And realized we were laying next to strangers
We didn't know each other anymore.
We worked out our settlement on our last kitchen table
It was easy
we had no anger; we were just done
And today I'm signing the final divorce papers
on my own kitchen table
This will be the last table for me
the last, the best, the easiest
The one that will see me begin my new life.
