When I visited my dad we always fell into the same routine; face to face at the dining room table spending time catching up, getting nostalgic over family photos, playing board games, and sharing family meals. This was what was always in my mind’s eye when I envisioned my visits home. But after being on his own for awhile, my father had gradually become more of a “bachelor” and realized somehow, without consulting me, that he could and would live his life to his liking, gosh darn it. It was never more apparent to me than the day I realized he had traded in his dining room table for a billiards table.
I think a part of me was sure my visits home were pretty much the highlights of Dad’s existence and I didn’t always notice the familiarity of my old home. It’s always been the way it was when I moved away. Dad and I were standing in the kitchen talking, or I was talking about myself, when I passed through the dining room, dropping my purse on the table in passing. I was still walking and talking when I heard the contents of the purse spill to the floor, having toppled off the table. I lifted up the edge of the tablecloth and found it was covering a billiards table, and I had unknowingly let my purse drop on the siderail. I looked up from the green felt to my Dad’s sort of defiant look. The tablecloth was probably there only for the table’s protection, not to hide it. Right?
Once I realized what had happened, I asked my dad where he had gotten the billiards table. Dad has always enjoyed his games; over the years the basement has turned into a combination card room/party central for Dad and his buddies, getting together to play poker or watch sports tournaments. Perhaps this is why I was not expecting to find a billiards table in his dining room. He told me that he had run out of room in the basement, and that he had to find a place to put it. To Dad it wasn’t a question of getting a billiards table, you see; the dilemma was where to put said table ไฮไลท์บอลย้อนหลัง.
I was only temporarily stymied at the idea that Dad would remove our meeting spot, my home inside the old home. I realized while my life came and went out of that house, Dad was there every day, all day. If he wanted a billiard table in his dining room I could adapt.
It’s funny now. I pop in for my visit and Dad and I still sit face to face in the same room spending time catching up, looking at pictures, sharing our meals. The billiards table is just fine with a piece of plywood and tablecloth over it, and most of the time I don’t even think about it being there.
It’s always good to see things a new way. I think Dad is onto something here. Though I can’t imagine I will have a billiards table in my dining room today, I hope that like my Dad, I will have a few surprises left. And you can never have too many balls.