Table for Three

Last night was special. Not for any news breaking reason. No salary raise or promotion being celebrated. No significant game win. No. Last night was one of those rare moments we went out to eat as a family.

      Sean recently had a birthday. And so, faithfully observing what has slowly evolved into an annual tradition in the Tippett household, we took him out for a steak dinner. Brendan having a rare night off from both his job and the demands of college, jumped into the car with us and I reveled in the precious moment this drive gave us as we listened to him chatter on about his latest milestones and mishaps. Walking into the restaurant, however, I was not emotionally prepared for the pleasant hostess who would innocently shatter this delicate moment of lightness with the uttering of three seemingly innocuous words:“Table for three?”

Table for three…

And just like that, reality came blaring back in. It continues to amaze me the things that catch me by surprise. Like a pebble in a shoe, one that hides in  small crevices thwarting all attempts of removal, grief is constantly present poking its uninvited discomfort into my mundane daily routine. Over time and with a bit of practice I’ve modified its insistent growl into a dull white noise, tucking it away into the background and limiting its hold over me. Or so it occasionally lets me assume. Then, enter something as seemingly unexceptional as this three-worded phrase and I’m suddenly reminded which of us truly holds the wheel. Finding myself fighting for breath, I’m transported back to another place and time…

      In the spring of 2002, only a few months into our new adventure of parenthood and desperate for a night out, our young little family made the brave, and in hindsight, uncalculated decision to eat out. Those first few months were full of many sleepless nights and long days as our sweet Londyn, born three weeks early and boasting a weight of only 5 lbs 11oz, battled colic. But when it seemed we had finally turned a corner and as the storm began to calm, we decided it was finally time to venture out as a trio.

       No one prepares you for the consequences of breaking an infant’s routine. But like many first-time parents, we were oblivious to the laws of child rearing. And so this universal law, one apparently well-known and observed by restaurant hostesses everywhere, would quickly become apparent to us as we found ourselves more often than not placed at tables near the back of the restaurant. Following our escort, baby carrier in hand, our table for three could often be found near the bathrooms or kitchen area where, as it turns out, we were least likely to disturb the other patrons. Sure enough, often before our appetizers had even arrived, our already spirited ginger would notoriously make her displeasure known. As the rhythm of her little wails slowly crescendoed, the race to gulp down food and extricate ourselves from a suddenly awkward situation would begin. Not to be defeated, and with this new information in hand and a little practice, we would eventually find ourselves enjoying an occasional family night out.

     Over the years our family grew to be a table for four, a place that immediately became one of my favorite places to be. Those rare occasions when we would scrape together enough money to treat our kids to an impromptu night out at their favorite restaurant carries back with it memories I will treasure for a lifetime.

       Pulling myself back to the present, I slowly but surely wrestle back control of the wheel, gradually tuning grief’s roar down to a dull buzz. As our hostess seats us at a table, one now located centrally within the main dining room, I can’t help but to reflect on this full circle moment and the impact life has made on our new trio. No longer sporting a baby carrier over our arm, we are instead accompanied by a handsome young man towering at just over 6’1”. Appetizers ordered, and after several pleading requests to put phones away, I soak up this special moment filled with the exchanging of stories often paired with laughter. And as the memories slowly make their way in, so too does the fourth member of our party. It strikes me suddenly, parties of three rarely find themselves seated at a table with less than four chairs, and on this particular night ours is no exception. To the casual observer we may have an empty seat, but to those who stop to take a closer look, they just might find ours is already taken. One quick glance, and Londyn is suddenly there, laughing and smiling along to the stories shared. Yes, our table of four may look a little different, but it’s still filled with all the things that matter most, shared by the three that know her best.