The Three-Legged Table

Inside our living room, there stood a table. Three legs it had; its round top was unique. Mom kept it in the corner, and she’d say so proudly that the table was antique. Well polished, it had a vase atop it, and flawless was its base, legs widely splayed. One day, with Mom away, we moved it to another room. A few games we then played. Our chairs fit well round that three-legged table as we played our Yahtzee and Crazy Eights. A lovely afternoon we spent, just I with two of my dear sisters as my mates. One sister (I can’t recall which one now) brought drinks to us, and just as Mom walked in, I spilled my drink! Mom became hysteric as if I had committed some great sin! She yanked us off our chairs and quickly wiped the spillage – yelling at us the whole time. The table got put back into its corner, and we were punished for our little crime. The vase was put back on the table’s top, and we three got no soup that night to sup. Mom’s in a nursing home now; we’ve all grown. I wonder where that table ended up!