There is a table in her house. A painting of landscape sits above it. This table hosts countless dinners of her friends and relatives. She could be Italian. She deserved to be one. So much love for others. I would rather say so much love for company. This table is an escape for refugees and nomads. They drink wine and eat pasta. Simple acts to remind ourselves that we are humane. She passes the plate around the room and she looks at empty glasses. Her people know that in her house no glass remains empty. I think about this table all the time. I wish I sit around it as well. She passes the plate around and our eyes meet in the moment of total bliss. She says things to me with her big eyes. Things that need not be mentioned. I say my words with looks and we both continue enjoying the dinner. Her table is so simple and yet so warm. It welcomes all of hearts. It is the kind of table we all dream about. Yet, most of us end up sitting at the tables where Jesus will have his last of Suppers. Betrayal and dismay decorates most of the tables. Infidelity and fear is the ingredient for most of the table folks around the world.
I do not want to see the face of Jesus when he knows that his days are gone. I do not want to see the wrong. I want to sit by her side at her table and enjoy the peace inside my heart. Peace that is painted in that painting is entertaining. I would really like to feel how it feels when sea shore has no inquisition on the way. When waves repeatedly dance along the coast. When two strangers bound in the way which makes universe a better place.
Two strangers can bound right? Maybe they need some time and setting. Maybe they need a dinner by that very table.
