Eating Rituals

"Dad, that's so stupid and not even fair! You know I've been waiting for this new episode to come out! I'm not even hungry." , I stated angrily, as my father insisted I come eat dinner with the family. 

My father's simple yet classic response was one I knew all too well: 

" You know we eat together as a family. I'm sorry you feel that way and you aren't hungry, but you still need to sit with us. Besides, I want to here about your day!"

 I grudgingly turned off the television and sat down in my seat, making my family well aware that I was extremely unhappy to be missing my show. I sat there pouting throughout the sign of the cross and the "Our Father" prayer that we said every night before we ate. My parents ignored my behavior as they dished out food to everyone. They started up the nightly ritual of going around the table and allowing each of us the spotlight to paraphrase the highlights and low lights of our day. As always, my brother told his corny joke, which usually allowed the conversation to take flight. 

 As the meal continued, I found my famous pouting face had slipped away, and in its place was a smile. The garrulousness and laughter was contagious, and I soon forgot the new episode on the television that I was missing.

The nightly ritual of my family sitting down together was more than a time for all of us to chow down, but more of a time to make memories, express our feelings, and be together. Many of my childhood memories consist of my family and I sitting around the kitchen table, crying because we are laughing so hard. These memories have become even more precious to me because my brother has left for collage, as will I in two years.  

I simply cannot emphasize the worth of the memories that were made over the many meals we have had as a family. Dinner was family time for us; a time to laugh, contemplate, tease, question, and occasionally cry. The nightly ritual of dinner with my family is a daily reminder that I am blessed.