Illustration by Victoria Borges
When I envisioned my adult house, it always included a traditional dining room. One with a formal table and chairs (matching, of course), a chandelier, and lovely linens. It would be just as perfect for hosting festive holiday gatherings as it would be for enjoying rollicking dinner parties with friends.
Initially, our dining room was much as I expected it to be. My husband and I acquired a lovely antique dining set from friends — complete with a table, six chairs and even a sideboard. We welcomed family for Thanksgiving just six weeks after we were married, using our wedding china and fresh linens.
When we moved to another state, the dining-room set came with us and saw many adult dinners followed by card games with friends. But when our first child arrived, we embraced the practicality of moving most family meals into the kitchen, where the high chair fit neatly into a corner atop the linoleum floor. We used the dining room only on special occasions.
By the time we returned to Virginia, we had two kids sitting at the table and our third on the way. Though we still had a casual eating area adjacent to the kitchen, it was soon apparent that our family needed more space. Suddenly, the dining room — so classic, so pristine — became our everyday dinner location. The kids helped with setting and clearing, learned to pass dishes that weren’t too hot, and practiced “civilized” eating behavior. We also occupied the room in a totally different way from what I had envisioned, and I cringed when I looked at the carpet below, a testament to the many meals eaten in the room.
As the years advanced, thanks to after-school activities and work commitments, it wasn’t as common for everyone to be home at the same time for an evening meal. Given that we often ate in shifts, it was easier to use the table adjacent to the kitchen, and the dining room was relegated, again, to special gatherings.
Then high school happened. Our oldest began to use the dining table, with its great expanse of space, for school work. Initially, I resisted. I wanted the room to be used for eating, even if it wasn’t a daily occurrence. And then I realized it was better to have our girl downstairs, close to the kitchen and family room, rather than sequestered in her bedroom. So we adapted. When we hosted friends, we’d close off the dining room and pretend it didn’t exist. We ate some holiday meals at the smallish table near the kitchen, with me joking that it was nice to be so close together.
Two Septembers ago, that oldest child went to college. Suddenly, the dining room was back. Did we use it? Not much, honestly. I enjoyed walking through and admiring the clean tablecloth and tasteful centerpiece, which I changed with the seasons (or my mood).
But it didn’t take long before the second child, now in high school, followed in his sister’s footsteps and took up residence. Reclaiming it for a holiday is again a challenge, and the doors are often closed when guests visit.
It only recently occurred to me that the dining room has been the space that has evolved most to suit our needs. It’s been adaptable and changeable, and it most clearly reflects where we are as a family at any given time. Before long, the third child will move in, and soon after that, the dining room will return to my original vision, with adult dinners and games instead of oilcloth table coverings and school supplies. Until more changes happen … and maybe six chairs won’t be enough for a family dinner.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Paula Peters Chambers loves talking with interesting people about their lives and usually doesn’t write about hers. Now a parent of three teenagers (one college-aged), she sees how changes in day-to-day living continue to be mirrored in living spaces.
