Redefining moments can come when we least expect them. When my kids left home three years ago, I was anything but ready to move out of our home. Perhaps coping with empty nest syndrome wouldn’t have been so difficult if I had been able to stay there. After apportioning enough furniture for our three apartments, I began to make my new 600 square-foot dwelling beautiful. It had its perks. It was recently renovated, could accommodate my large dog, and I would also be close to my mother.

I sincerely tried to embrace this new phase of life, but each day I felt like I was in a dorm for fifty-something single moms. I was lonely. To compensate, I spent countless hours shopping online, trying to find just the right table or credenza that would be the perfect catchall for the foyer, while also working double duty as a small dining table.  I finally invested in a trendy counter table from CB2. It came at the expense of saying farewell to a cherished pedestal table that I bought at an antique shop in 1982 with my first income tax refund. My mother had suggested that I use my refund each year to invest in an antique. For me, the graceful little table was a personal monolith that saw me through all the twists and turns life can bring. 

At first, I used the table as a nightstand in the apartment I shared with a roommate when I first left my parent’s home. It made such a statement that I didn’t have the desire to acquire much else. That and my antique French armoire were all I could want.

Two years later, when I moved into a studio apartment, the table inhabited a small corner off the kitchenette. With two French ladderback chairs, it was a quaint still-life. If it wasn’t otherwise supporting a stack of books or clothes, I was using it to serve up a few plates of pasta for friends.  When I moved back home, now pregnant, the table accompanied me. There it accommodated a lamp, personal effects, and books such as “What to Expect when You’re Expecting,” along with my private supply of Hershey’s kisses because a stranger had once told me when I was pregnant, I should eat a little chocolate every day.

Still inseparable, the silhouette would eventually flank one end of our sofa once I got married and moved again. Three years later, it was the only furnishing I took with me when my now two toddlers and I moved into my parent’s house for “the time being.” Once again as a night table, it was home to baby bottles, a stack of Dr. Seuss books, and my rosary, which brought me much comfort and peace when I learned how to pray it during my personal crisis.

Over the years the table was either in my living room, kitchen, or daughter’s bedroom. Now that I was in my “adult-dorm,” I didn’t have space for it, but I think I just wanted something new to help me get over the empty nest.

My brother and sister-in-law loved the table and were happy to take it off my hands. I was happy that I could still admire it when I visited them. It looked even lovelier than I had remembered. Silently sulking, I reasoned that it was only a piece of furniture, an inanimate object. I tried to overcome that sinking feeling when I thought about what I had gotten rid of, just to have something new and trendy.

As you can imagine, I was elated when out of the blue, my brother and his wife brought the table back to me! Now that we are reunited, I wonder, what was I thinking?

One might think I am speaking about a romantic relationship; however, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out the not-so-hidden parable in this story about my table. Sometimes we let relationships go, which, unlike furniture, are not always replaceable or retrievable. Whether you are investing in a new piece of furniture, as I did when I was younger, or thinking about replacing something that still works, make sure you aren’t simply acting from a place of boredom or loneliness.

Speaking from experience, I encourage anyone in the market for furniture to invest in at least one piece that will not just light your fire, but also stand the test of time. When you are ditching old furniture, make sure you are ready to let go. 

There is nothing wrong with using non-descript, basic pieces to decorate your home. They too have their place. Ask me about that one IKEA piece that I almost returned. But you will never regret investing in that one special piece that you will always come back to, over the years, when you tell your own story.