Meant To Be

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That grandfather of mine…

Was a talented woodworker…refinished pieces…filled their home with beautiful treasures…

Little-me loved the marble-topped dressers…would run her hands over the cool smooth stone with admiration…

The matriarch died years after he did…their furniture going to the children…grandchildren allowed to choose a token…young-me the beloved butter dish…the rest was sold at auction…it was sad to see those marble pieces go…

But as luck would have it…or bad luck, perhaps…that mother of mine passed not long after, and her heirlooms found a new home…

That stunning dresser that always sat in the upstairs landing…the bedside table from the spare room…the hutch rescued from a fire (the desk beneath burned beyond use)…and that table…that marble-topped table…

Knew its story…always loved its story…that grandfather of mine finding the base at the dump…searched and searched the area for the top, finding it in one piece—undamaged…a miracle of sorts…

And perhaps meant to be…meant to be the piece to fill a young girl’s dream of having a treasure…a marble-topped treasure…that would always remind her of one man who was there for her when she was little…
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And that family of mine…would agree…