A Family Place

We lived in an old farmhouse that had been remodeled by my grandfather. He was a carpenter and all around handyman, doing everything from pouring basements to repairing roofs. In the center of our house was the dining room. It was a large room that connected the living room to the kitchen. It had a spectacular fourteen-foot high cathedral ceiling. The ceiling and the walls were tongue-and-groove knotty pine; they were a rich golden color with small black spots scattered throughout. On one side of the room was our front door, on the opposite side was a long bar with stools that kept the kitchen separate from the dining room. There was a large window on the opposite side of the living room. The drapes were changed with the seasons. Bright green for spring, gold for the summer, burnt-orange for the fall, and white throughout the winter. Looking through the window you could enjoy the beautiful ten-acre pasture. In the spring you could watch the horses as they raced about or paused to eat some of the dark green grass that grew there. This was my favorite room in my parents' house. It was where I learned that a family could pull together and be united.

On Thanksgiving Day the room would be arranged to accommodate the appropriate number of guests. Chairs would be brought in from the kitchen and the table leafs would come out from their musty resting-place in the closet. I would be put in charge of putting out the good dishes and silverware, as my mother and grandmother would be in the kitchen preparing the feast. After a full day of smelling pumpkin pies, mincemeat pies, apple pies, banana bread, stuffing, and a thirty-pound turkey, everyone would be anxious to eat. People always found a way to get along there, although throughout the year my family seldom did.

For Christmas we would remove everything in our dining room except the table. It was a huge table, much too heavy to go anywhere else. We would strategically place the high-back chairs that went with the table about the room and push the table up to the bar that separated kitchen from dining room. We would tramp out into the snow-covered woods behind our barn, across the frozen creek, in search of the perfect tree. The trees that we chose were always so big that it would take two or three of us to force it through the front door. Once inside and set up into the tree stand, our trees always reached the top of our fourteen-foot ceiling. It was like part of the forest had overgrown our dining room. The dark green of the tree and its size were almost imposing. A rickety old eight-foot stepladder was brought in from the barn to decorate. Later in the evening, when every ornament was in its proper place and every burned out light had been replaced, we would turn off the house lights and bask in its beauty. The smell of fresh pine filled the house as we stood silently. The light of the tree lights danced throughout the room and in my eyes. I knew how fortunate I was. If I had never received a gift on Christmas day it wouldn't have mattered. I knew in my heart that this was what Christmas was about; the togetherness of a family, the bond of a common goal and the love that we shared at these times.

The house sits empty now. My brothers, sister, and I have all grown up and have families of our own now. My parents have moved to a new house - one full of all the modern conveniences that they deserve, but empty of any memories. It has a beautiful dining room, but it seems a cold place to me. As I think back to our old dining room, I feel a sense of loss. Soon a new family will move into our old house. Will it ever mean as much to them as it did to me? Surely they will change things to make it their home: the burnt spot on the dining room floor where my train set almost started a fire so many Christmases ago; the scrapes on the front door jamb from forcing oversized trees through. Will all the little imperfections in the dining room that are memories to me be wear and tear that needs to be fixed by the new owners? This was the place where we could come together as a family and forget our arguments. This was the place where we could unite in a common goal. This was the place where the bond of a family was tied.