There’s a piece of furniture in our home that means more than any photo or heirloom: our dining table. At first glance, it’s just old oak—scratched and worn out. But to us, it holds generations of laughter, love, and tradition.It began in the 1930s, when my great-grandfather Damien built the table by hand after he and my great-grandmother Geneva immigrated from opposite ends of Italy. Damien came from the mountainous north; Geneva from the warm, food-filled south. Together, they built a life rooted in family. Geneva’s delicious bolognese and crisp chicken cutlets fed countless meals around that table. Damien, quiet and proud, always sat at the head.After they passed, the table moved to my grandmother Noni’s home. I grew up watching her cook—making meatballs and laying out fresh pasta, the smell of tomatoes and garlic in the air. Every Sunday dinner, holiday, and especially Christmas brought us together. So many voices, stories, and meals.When the table came to us, it was tired but full of history. We didn’t replace it—we preserved it. We sent it to be refurbished, carefully refinishing the oak without erasing the grooves and scars that told its story. Now it sits in our dining room, ready for the next chapter.This table has seen births, celebrations, grief, and joy. It’s our anchor, our tradition, and our legacy. Someday, I’ll pass it on—because some things aren’t just worth keeping. They’re worth continuing.

– Griffin Collins

Relationship:  Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more