Before I launch into the psyche of Karen3, I will hit the pause button and remind readers of what My Kitchen Table really means.  Although the image most definitely centers around a kitchen table, it is so much more than that.  

The story of My Kitchen Table takes place in a house in a small suburban neighborhood in Central New Jersey.  Which Exit, you ask?  Well, 8A will get you there.  In this house, there is a room.  In this room, there is a table.  And yes, it is a kitchen table.  This room has a couple of windows.  Even so, the light in the room is always the same.  White.  Not bright, not dull, never dark.  Just white.

It is very still in this room.  Sometimes there is a breeze that gently blows the window drapes.  And sometimes there is music playing from somewhere outside the room.  The sound is like music that would play from a 45 vinyl on a turntable.   A small plastic one that has a handle for easy transport.  But neither of these things alter the stillness in the room.

The kitchen table is from the 1960’s.  It is beige and round.  There are spots of dried model glue on the table.  These spots are permanent and are from the dad making car models while he sat at the table and listened to his police band radio perched on a shelf behind his chair.  

The chairs around the table are also beige. They are vinyl kitchen chairs that make a nail-biting sound when you push back from the table and the legs scrape the linoleum floor.  

In this image, six females sit at the kitchen table.  I would say six women but they are of varying ages, ranging from 5 to somewhere in their 40’s.  They are, at once, all different and are all the same.   My Kitchen Table is a story about these women and how they each came to sit at this kitchen table.  

Now for the runner, Karen3.  Watch out.  She moves quickly and if you blink she might be gone.

Meet Karen3

Karen3 is otherwise known as “the runner”.  You will see that being a “runner” can actually be descriptive of several different characteristics.  She has had a seat at the kitchen table since the late 1970’s when she was a teenager.  You might say that one of her theme songs is the 80’s song “Somebody’s Watching Me“, by Rockwell.

Although this song is not on anyone’s radar these days, here is the link:  Somebody’s Watching Me https://g.co/kgs/ce9M51, just in case you are longing for a trip down 1983 with Rockwell.

Karen3, as she is seen at the kitchen table, is probably in her late teens or early 20’s and is wearing 1970’s gym shorts with tube socks and sneakers.  While everyone else is sitting at the table, she continuously runs around the room, circling the table, never sitting down.  She is sometimes carrying Karen1, the youngest Karen who can’t walk, either piggy-back or like a monkey.  She is fiercely protective of this one, as are some – but not all – of the others.

Karen3 spends most of her time furtively glancing around the room, watching for something or someone.  She is always poised to run away at the first sign of trouble or difficulty.  Running away is her superpower.  👊🏻

The thing about Karen3 is that, although she is always ready to run, she is steadfastly committed to keeping everyone around the table safe.  Despite her being known as the one to run away, this is also her greatest strength and gift to the table.  In fact, her running is likely her most effective way to avoid the unpleasant, scary and sad things that life presents.  In her own way, this is how she stays safe and keeps the other Karens safe, as well.

Karen3 is a product of the fear and discomfort she experienced growing up.  It wasn’t fear or discomfort from being physically hurt.  But, instead, was the discomfort that comes from knowing that her parents didn’t really like each other but were together nonetheless.  A fact that she understood from a very young age.  In order to deal with this discomfort, Karen3 spent a lot of time in her room listening to music or reading, avoiding the presence of her parents.  Both were fairly adequate distractions for a time.  But eventually,  Karen3 needed something else.  When this occurred to her is foggy but the something else was simple . . . .  movement.

She found that when she was running she gained a comforting sense of peace.  The pounding of her feet on the pavement, the sweat, and the feeling of her rapidly beating heart made her feel alive and powerful.  She gained a sense of clarity that she couldn’t otherwise find as she took in the fresh salt air, felt and heard the sound of the seagulls gliding around her.  On these runs, Karen3 could slowly sort through her confusing thoughts.  She began to rely on running as a way to calm herself down when nothing else could.  In this way, Karen3 provides everyone around the kitchen table with a sense of peace and understanding that they might not have in certain more stressful circumstances.

So as you can see, despite the truth about Karen3, that she is likely to “run away” from uncomfortable situations, she also uses this same technique as a way to survive and maybe even thrive during the hard stuff of life.

Being a “runner” can have its perks.