For as long as I can remember, my family and I always sat down and ate dinner together. My mother taught me that food brings us closer. The smell of garlic that made its way up to my room when my mom made her pot of sauce, or my favorite, the smell of sofrito and it boiling in the pot as my mom made arroz con gandules. It was an aroma that I looked forward to smelling every night. Dinner time was where we’d speak about our day and how it went. Dinner was not a ten-minute event in my household. The minimum was thirty minutes, and as my brother and I got older, conversations became longer, laughs became harder, and smiles stretched further. We would gather at the table and start eating. We would ask the usual questions: “How was your day?” and “What’d you do?” Then somehow, someway, those simple questions would turn into sitting at the table for hours on end each night, always ending with us all smiling. Dinner easily became the best part of my day.
When we got older, my brother and I were given cell phones. We became glued to them, like many kids. My mother and father agreed to make the rule “no phones at the table.” My brother and I abided by the rule and never brought our phones to the table. As we matured, conversations did as well. “You would tell us if you liked someone, right?” my mother would say to us always with such a trusting tone.
Thinking back to when I was younger, not once was I allowed to bring food upstairs to my room. After coming home from a swim practice, all I would want to do is take my food upstairs and crash, but my parents’ reason for this rule all makes sense now, because had I eaten in my room, I would have replaced this family time. It always stressed me out when I had school work to finish; I would have rather been finishing my work than hear my father’s mindless puns. Every time, and I mean every time, my brother mentioned his friend Prastik, my dad would make a Step Brothers reference by addressing my brother’s friend as “Prestige Worldwide.” Prastik wasn’t the first to get a random nickname that barely correlated to their names. Then there were the times where my dad and I would furrow our brows and lower our voice to sing the lyrics “son cinco noches junto a ti” and get up to dance with each other. The time where I found out I would be working in a chemistry lab, and my parents congratulated me; the time watching a video of my brother hitting his first home run of the season, over and over. I would have missed all this had I brought my food upstairs. I would’ve missed the inside jokes. I didn’t realize how necessary it was for me to talk about my day, talk about my relationships, laugh about my day. If I had a bad day, I would explain why it was bad and somehow my mother and father managed to get me through it. I didn’t realize the importance of it until I got older.
I often think about other families who don’t sit down and talk as a family during dinner, and can’t help but be entirely grateful that my parents instilled this value in us so that we are able to carry these values into our families in the future. As I get ready to leave for college soon, I think about how I will miss that hour out of my day. However, I will always think back to the dinner table, and know where my values come from. They come from this very table.
When we got older, my brother and I were given cell phones. We became glued to them, like many kids. My mother and father agreed to make the rule “no phones at the table.” My brother and I abided by the rule and never brought our phones to the table. As we matured, conversations did as well. “You would tell us if you liked someone, right?” my mother would say to us always with such a trusting tone.
Thinking back to when I was younger, not once was I allowed to bring food upstairs to my room. After coming home from a swim practice, all I would want to do is take my food upstairs and crash, but my parents’ reason for this rule all makes sense now, because had I eaten in my room, I would have replaced this family time. It always stressed me out when I had school work to finish; I would have rather been finishing my work than hear my father’s mindless puns. Every time, and I mean every time, my brother mentioned his friend Prastik, my dad would make a Step Brothers reference by addressing my brother’s friend as “Prestige Worldwide.” Prastik wasn’t the first to get a random nickname that barely correlated to their names. Then there were the times where my dad and I would furrow our brows and lower our voice to sing the lyrics “son cinco noches junto a ti” and get up to dance with each other. The time where I found out I would be working in a chemistry lab, and my parents congratulated me; the time watching a video of my brother hitting his first home run of the season, over and over. I would have missed all this had I brought my food upstairs. I would’ve missed the inside jokes. I didn’t realize how necessary it was for me to talk about my day, talk about my relationships, laugh about my day. If I had a bad day, I would explain why it was bad and somehow my mother and father managed to get me through it. I didn’t realize the importance of it until I got older.
I often think about other families who don’t sit down and talk as a family during dinner, and can’t help but be entirely grateful that my parents instilled this value in us so that we are able to carry these values into our families in the future. As I get ready to leave for college soon, I think about how I will miss that hour out of my day. However, I will always think back to the dinner table, and know where my values come from. They come from this very table.
