Tables are things that are much used by our families, but there’s a special thing about mine and it has a deep back ground.
My father was so loving towards me as his son, therefore he thought of something that he could buy for my birthday, something special. He built me a table. I was 6 years old.
He said to me, “This one table I made it with love. I know you are into toys and stuff but I built this table for you to use it as much as you want,” that’s when I saw how much my dad’s feeling me were.
Since then I used the table when I was eating, doing my Grade 1 stuff. He was also using it when he was doing some measurements because he was a carpenter. I liked that a lot because I was sharing it with him and I loved my father very much.
He died when I was seven years old. That affected me very much because losing him was one big step I never ever expected to happen. I thought it was the end of the world. Every time I thought of him I was seeing him through that special table.
I love it very much and I will until I my eyes close forever. I still see it as a treasure and it is something important to me. No one uses it except me and it means a lot to me. I’m still using it now to do my schoolwork and it is still stand-and-still. You would find it with a pile of books and paperwork.
It is a special table, dark grey-ish over time but now it is different as I can call it an ancestor. Sometimes when I am cooking I do some peeling on it. I can do anything for it even if it would be caught on fire, nothing would ever stop me from going to save it.
I know my father is happy wherever he is as I’m appreciating his pleasant work. I keep it clean and shiny all the time and there are special aerosol and polish to keep it well. I’m addicted to it as if it was a drug. I’m so attached to it and I can’t help myself and that’s how special it is to me.