I'm sitting at my dinner table, remnants of the meal still around me, feeling like I have nothing at all to write tonight. Then I read Kendra Limback's Slice about a book called, Dinner: A Love Story. What a great idea for a book! Just reading about it brought back so many delicious memories for me.
Dinner as a child was a ritual. We ate together: mom, dad, my sister and I. There were no electronics back them so nothing to distract us. If the phone rang, and it rarely rang at dinner time, we would answer it (because there was no answering machine) and quickly end the call. We talked, we ate, we laughed.
When we moved to our new house, we ate in a room we planned to remodel so we were allowed to decorate the walls any way we liked. What fun! My dad brought home a huge map of the world, and dinnertime turned into lessons about geography. I think those early conversations inspired my curiosity about the world and my love of travel.
Fast forward many years to dinner in my own home, with my husband and our two daughters. We created our own rituals - one of my favorites was highs and lows, where we would share the best thing (and the worst) that happened that day. When the girls were young this was a great opportunity to see into their worlds. As they got older, we didn't need the pretense of the "game," we would just talk.
As I get ready to celebrate the holiday this weekend with my immediate and extended family, I'm looking forward to sitting around a bigger dinner table and sharing good food and great conversation.