My Mama’s oldest sister, Aunt Nova Kane, graced us with a short, unannounced visit each spring. “I’m here once again, fulfilling my duty call,” she meticulously announced, with her head held high to extract an extra inch from her zaftig frame. Even in her low heels, Mama’s slim and graceful carriage stood taller.

Aunt Nova Kane pretended to ignored the fact that I now surpassed her height too, and marched behind Mama into the kitchen with her permanent scowl in place. I suppose being married to a dentist could have induced her paralyzed expression, but Mama said she came by it naturally at birth and has never fashioned any desire to trade it for a smile.

“Ressie, are you never going to replace this beat up old table?” Aunt Nova Kane dropped her beaded purse onto the wooden surface with a loud thump, leaving a small, fresh mark.

I flashed a glance at Mama and saw tender tears form in her eyes. Aunt Nova Kane’s cruel remark scored high and ranked one of her worst. “Mama you sit. I’ll make the tea.”

“Thank you Eisha.” Mama blinked her tears away and delicately stroked the old oak table.

“Don’t forget the lemon cookies. I can’t have tea without your Mama’s lemon cookies.” Aunt Nova Kane licked her thin, tight lips.

Mama’s cookies came out extra tart this time. I prayed they would clamp Aunt Nova Kane’s mouth into permanent closer. The request induced a sudden grin. I made a quick turn to the stove and set the tea kettle on the hottest spot.

“See this scratch?” Mama’s finger followed a long curved scar at one corner. “A growing mark.” Mama smiled. “Baby Forry reached the table for the first time with his precious fingers and grabbed for the nearest thing within his grasp, a glass of milk. It slipped from his chubby hand and the broken pieces etched this beautiful lopsided star.”

With her brow knit together, aunt Nova Kane’s nonplussed stare bore deeper grooves than the score marks. “Oh, for pity sakes. How can you see a star from those hen scratches?”

Mama ignored her sister, stretched out her hand, and traced a darkened pattern. “And this one happened on Ani’s graduation day. After the ceremony, her Papa declared she was a lady and could join the adults at the table and sip her first cup of coffee. Of course, her Papa dropped in three lumps of sugar, and filled the cup half-full with cream, before he added the coffee. Ani sat tall and straight. Her soft violet eyes a sparkle of complete joy. But in her haste, she leaned forward, balancing her chair on its front legs momentarily to receive the cup. She fell across the table and knocked the coffee pot over. Yes, the deep crescent gouge resting near the table’s center belongs to sweet Ani. I don’t believe she’ll ever let a drop of coffee touch her lips.”

Locks of blonde hair flung from side to side with the shake of Aunt Nova Kane’s head. “Ressie, you read too much into things.” An exaggerated deep breath followed. “Eisha, is the tea ready yet?”

“Almost.” I grabbed the company tray and muted my footsteps to the hutch for the bone china.

“See this circular mark nestled next to Ani’s?” Understanding moved into Mama’s voice. “It belongs to affectionate Benter. He came home from school one spring day and threw his lunch pail on the table, angry and hurt. His thick fist pounded the pail. Janie Roberts had turned down his invitation to the Easter picnic because he’d carved their initials inside a heart, on her desk.” Mama clicked her tongue. “It’s hard to believe next month they’ll celebrate their tenth anniversary.”

“Now this scratch,” Mama pointed to the cut almost half the table long, “belongs to Clytie. Her mark of revenge. Benter had called her latest sewing fashion, ‘A sack not fit for feed.’ She hurled the scissors at him. They caught the edge of the table and glided across its surface, digging a long scar along their travels.”

Red painted fingernails tapped the table. “Eisha, bring me a lemon cookie to settle my nerves. And where’s that tea?”

I set the plate of cookies in front of Aunt Nova Kane with a thud. She jumped.

Mama didn’t flinch. She lovingly stroked her hand across the deepest marks gouged in the table. A set of long, wide tracks. “These are from the buckles on Drayton’s shoes. The rock had flown from the moving buggy and hit him in the temple so suddenly, nobody had time to warn him.”

Mama’s breath shuddered. Tears slipped down her pale cheeks. “Drayton was gone before I could clean the wound. His Papa lifted him from the table, the buckles grinding into the wood, screeching in protest over the senseless happening.”

The bitten cookie dropped from Aunt Nova’s bejeweled hand. “Eisha, I need that cup of tea now!” Her words fell out short and taut.

Mama blinked away a final tear and fingered the new mark, unaware of Aunt Nova Kane’s mountainous pucker. “Through its continued years of use this table has remained steadfast, dependable and strong. So have my children.”

Mama smiled. “Yes, Eisha, lets have our tea.”