For months, he had worked relentlessly. He cut down the tree, split the logs, and brought them down to workable planks, and that was only the beginning. It was only a few days in when his family began to wonder if he had finally lost it; why was a man who had never done a day of manual labor in his life taking on such an endeavor? All he ever said was, "My family deserves the best."
Once he had the planks sawn, he built a drying room to make sure that they were perfect. He waited and waited, measuring the water content every day. Then one day, everything was spot on. He took them into his brand new workshop and began to plane them down. By the time he was done, the surface was absolutely even.
He jointed the planks together, ensuring that they fit together like a glove. The surface was coming together, slowly but surely. Each day, he'd do one more joint and smile at his progress, even if it was driving him a bit mad.
He turned the leg parts on his new lathe, making absolutely certain that each section would fit properly in the next. It was essential that they telescoped cleanly, or his plan would never succeed. This odd design choice got no end of questions from his wife, but he brushed them off the same way he did all others.
Then the sanding. Lord, the sanding. From morning to night, he sanded in increasingly finer grades of paper. His arms ached, but his family deserved the best and he would settle for absolutely nothing else.
Finally, he stained and sealed the wood. Once the finish was to his liking, he sanded it again and buffed and polished until he could see himself in it. He had the finest table that he had ever seen.
While his family was away one afternoon, he and a friend moved it into the dining room, replacing the old dingy Ikea table with his perfect piece of craftsmanship. He got to work cooking a meal to commemorate the occasion, in preparation for the inaugural dinner that evening.
When his family returned home, they couldn't believe what they saw before them. The table couldn't have looked any better, with its nice wooden centerpiece, a roast suckling pig, and sides as far as the eye could see. They all stood slackjawed before he invited them to sit.
He raised his glass and looked at his wife, smiling. She knew that smile all too well, and immediately her eyes fell to the table. The fear built in her stomach as it all became clear to her.
"Family; those I love so very much," he began. "I know you all think I've lost it. That I've gone off the deep end. Well, today I think you'll see that that's untrue. You just all deserve the best, and this table was the only way I could give you that."
"You sit before my months of work; this beautiful piece of work was just a simple birch tree only a few months ago. I couldn't have done it without your love and support, even if you did think me a bit mad. I love you all, so I won't keep you from your food for longer than I need to."
"I've noticed you all looking at the height of this table; I know it seems odd. But you'll note that you all have a handle just under the table, in front of you. Just grab hold of that and lift it up and the table will follow, effortlessly."
"Lift some birch, then you dine."