The Dinner Table
I grew up having dinner with my parents and brother every single night of the week. Some times it was a quick hot dog and chips before a ball game or a choir practice, other times it was a dreaded meal made for my then-picky eater brother (cheeseburger pie, gross– also happy to report my brother somehow went from super picky to a foodie). But we always gathered together for this meal. Growing up it was often my Mom who made it, but my Dad helped a lot too. In his later years, he was doing a lot more of the cooking, something I know he enjoyed a lot.
Q and I eat together pretty much every single night. Even the nights when I have to work late or have a work event, he will frequently wait for me to get home to eat takeout together. I will admit that we frequently sit on the couch and eat at the coffee table while watching the news and talking about our days. Part of that is Q often has a lot of work to do at home and what is the dining room table becomes his home office. Our kitchen is tiny so we retreat to our coffee table for dinner. Not the best habit, but we try to not get the mechanics of where we eat dinner get in the way of that time together.
Growing up with that built in time with loved ones is an important part of my childhood and who I am as an adult. I look at dinner together as a pretty sacred time to connect, not talk about work (or at least let it be the last time at night we talk about it), and focus on each other. Even when I’m tired or in a cooking rut, I take pride in making or picking up food to have together. I have coworkers who think it’s old-fashioned that I make dinner every night, but it’s part of my value of family and time together, so we make it a priority.
The dinner table holds an important place in my life and heart. It’s the place where the stress and worries of the day melt away and it’s all about home and the people who matter the most to me.