Every move has some regrets. With every move there are those things we lose track of. Some item lost, given away, shed, that we wish we still had. Me, I miss my table. My little retro yellow and white diner table. That table where Avery took his first bites in his little green retro booster seat. Where he splattered paint across the room, avacado, mango mush. Stained from his creations. That table was just a part of our lives, for his whole life. And I miss it like an aching hole in my stomach. If I had known I was going to have to leave behind some things, I would have better planned. I would have stored that table. But I held out a last minute hope that I could bring it with me. And then in the flurry of clearing out what didn’t fit on the trailer, I gave it away. I know it went to a good home, to someone who could use it. But I mourn it. I mourn it’s lost chances. I miss its presence, I miss the future we might have shared. I can see that table out on my future patio, or in my garden shed. I can see Avery as a grown man setting my tea and sandwiches on it. The stains I tried to bleach out and then decided added to its special charm would catch our eye. I am mourning it like the lost time we have left behind. I miss that table dammit!