They sat in the same seats every night.
My dad at the head.
My mom moving between the kitchen and the table like she never really sat down.
There was always enough food, even during the hard times when all we had was oatmeal for dinner, our bellies were full.
There was always much noise with 5 giggling kids, telling jokes and teasing each other.
We helped set the table, and helped to serve each other.
Mom had a way of calming us down to a low roar.
Dad usually told us so many curious stories that made our heads spin with excitement.
So many memories of being reminded “eat your vegetables“ as we pushed them around the plate, hoping they wouldn’t notice we didn’t even eat any.
We tried secretly spitting them out in a napkin and waiting till later to toss them out when Mom was wasn’t looking.
We fought sometimes, but more often we fell off our seats laughing.
There was always so much warmth and love.
In a family of 7 it was the best part of the day.
Because you could easily get your parents full attention as they sat across that table with a smile and asked you about school.
We had some great discussions about life and the future.
In the beginning, there were highchairs and bibs and as we got older, there was usually a bunch of friends joining us at that big table.
So many people holding hands during the prayer. So many people to love. So many precious minutes,
Everything felt so safe and i knew i was loved.
There was so much chaos sometimes, but it was our chaos.
And now we live far from each other and sadly some family ties are “a little bit tricky.”… i hate that!
Those OG family dinners are fewer and far between.
I didn’t think it meant anything back then.
Now I would give anything to sit there one more time and hear it all again.
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