More Than Just Wood
One thing I will miss the most as I pack up from time spent with my bonus family is dinner time. This has nothing to do with the meal (okay, maybe a little to do). This has to do with the fact that family dinner reminds me so much of how I grew up.
The dining room table was the centerfold of my evenings.
For as long as I can remember we sat as a family to eat at night. It was the decompression center after a long day. A place where we caught up on everything that happened. The dining room table always held so many memories.
I remember silly things, like hating the feel of barbecue sauce on my fingers. Whenever my mother made chicken wings I’d walk the short distance to wash off the excess after every bite. It was a ridiculous tick that has at least changed in time.
There were the busy moments.
When my entire family packed in around that table while my siblings and their families came over, the holidays were always filled with chaos.
It was that table where my youngest nephew was handed to me for the first time, in that soft blue blanket disguised as stuff to clear off before dinner. I was that teenager who’d been afraid to hold something so little at the time. I still stand by the fact that that was one of my favorite moments in that little wooden house.
