The left-hand place

An original literary non-fiction-style account of preparing a long table for a family celebration.

My aunt laid the table from the centre outwards. She measured the spaces with a folded napkin and moved any plate that interrupted the pattern. I followed with the name cards, trying to remember which cousins were no longer children and should therefore be seated away from the end nearest the kitchen.

When I put Arun's card beside the wall, my aunt moved it to a corner. She said he ate with his left hand and would otherwise knock elbows with his neighbour. I had sat beside him for years without knowing that she planned for this. I asked whether we should move the whole row. She said a corner was enough.

My cousin arrived and began changing two cards because their owners had argued at the last gathering. My aunt asked whether they had argued since. My cousin admitted that they now worked together on Saturdays. The cards went back. Nobody was to be seated beside a quarrel that had already ended, my aunt said.

Near the door, I had put my grandfather's name where he could reach the bathroom easily. He asked to move further along, beside someone who would talk about anything except his health. We changed the card. My aunt checked that the route past his chair was still clear and said nothing about the reason.

By the time everyone sat down, the perfect pattern had disappeared. The corner was wider, two chairs were closer together and my grandfather had taken the seat I had meant for myself. My aunt folded the measuring napkin and put it on her lap. She looked along the table once, then began asking who wanted potatoes.

What do you learn about the considerations that shape the seating arrangements?