The Kitchen Table…
Every home has a kitchen table perfect example of our family traditions and values…ours was no exception… in ours the legacy of traditions and values was a porcelain kitchen table… wobbly wooden legs witness to generations of women’s happiness, sadness, gatherings, gossips, pains, hates, loves, and rejections…
No one knew the origin of our table, at some moment belonged to my mother’s grandmother… Small matriarch born in the Canaries Islands married to a Spaniard… olive and milk… they move to the Caribbean…. money and position was part of their lives… nannies, maids, servants…the kitchen table strong and new… white porcelain mounted on mahogany legs… saw dinners, desserts, and deaths…weddings, baptisms, and “baquines”…

From one house to another and another…time weathered…hurricanes and fires…the mahogany legs replaced with cheap pine and paint…the strong white porcelain top remain the same…nicks of black and red…scratches of knives and utensils…new stoves, electric grills… new places, new faces, the table and the stories remained the same…

In our house… the porcelain kitchen table became our turn to a legacy of traditions and values… “dulce de coco”, “pasteles”, “mampostiales”… turkeys and perniles…prepared, cut, and served on our table… Curios eyes, working hands, busy lips…Hot coco with cheese for comfort, coffee with cookies for guests, with bread and butter for everyone else… sitting at the table an adult privilege for the intimate friend…good news, bad news, divorces, and gossip…dreams and hopes… the porcelain table of wobbly wooden legs witness of endless memories.