The dinner table

Marin Poleshek

The Dinner Table went quickly without warning. Brown and round and wood. 4 black chairs with peeling paint and tired, uncomfortable seats. For 3 years those 4 seats held 3 people. For 16 years those 4 seats held 4 people. Now, in the 20th year, those 4 seats hold 1 person. 2 if the 1 person is lucky. 3 on special occasions, holidays, and the weekends when everything feels like a bit too much to bear. The 4th chair is still there- it sits stoic and unyielding. A reminder of what once was. A reminder of what is still yet to come. The Table looks imbalanced without it, you say. But we all know the real reason. 4 is an even number. It holds a promise. A hope that things might add back up someday.