For the first time in my life, I’m not going to have a kitchen table.

With the kitchen renovation, we no longer have a table. Now, we have a breakfast bar.

I can’t get over the concept. When I was growing up, the kitchen table was the center of everything. I did my homework, there, and assorted school projects. At my grandmother’s house, it’s where you ate and watched TV, and talked.

Adam’s family still sits around the table when you visit. I can’t ever remember anyone sitting in the unused living rooms.

I suppose, when this year’s neighborhood tag sale comes around, I’ll put that out with the microwave I no longer need.

It’ll be different — but it’ll be nice to move to the next phase of my life — where I actually live in the living room.

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