Penny For MY Thoughts?

Five years ago, a new tradition began the night I showed up at my Mom's house in tears. You see, my seven year relationship had ended. I was 26 years old. What a time to have your life do a complete flip, in the middle of your twenties. Needless to say, I was struggling with a lot of different things. The biggest one being I was very alone all of a sudden. I was living in my own apartment for the first time, I barely had anything to put in that apartment aside from a bed, a few fixtures like tables and shelves, and my work desk. I didn't even have a couch yet. My best friends had just gotten married (seriously, just days prior), and on top of that, they moved out of state. When the crushing weight of being so alone after seven years began to feel suffocating, I got in my Jeep and drove to my Mom's. This was only maybe a ten minute drive or so, which was convenient for the weekly visits that were about to begin.

That first night, my Mom put on a kettle of water and opened up the tea cabinet. We chose an orange ginger with turmeric tea. We talked and sipped, I can't remember for how long, at the kitchen table under the soft glow of the overhead lamp. That particular tea continues to be my “cuppa” of choice when I feel like I need some comfort. This continued for a few days off and on, and if I recall correctly, these visits are what turned into dinner at least once a week.

Thus a tradition was born. Monday night dinner became a weekly staple at Mom's. It was a full house back then. My Mom, my sister and her son (my nephew), my youngest sister, and myself. All together again after years of separation for varying reasons; life had taken us in our own directions for a time. My youngest sister was still living at home and nearing the end of High School, which if you recall, five years ago was the thick of COVID-19 times and we all remember what that was like. My nephew was only two years old and the sweetest little boy (still is, although not so little anymore!) There were a few characters that came and went, mostly friends, but we gained permanent additions along the way.

I suppose Monday night dinner originally began when I arrived, being the only one of us that didn't live in the house. Over time dinner would wait until every confirmed guest had arrived, of course. Monday night dinner usually went a little something like this: early in the day, we would all chime in via text message on what the meal for the evening would be, which at the time, was typically out of a little cookbook called “Irish Pub Food”. We were on a real kick with this small but mighty cookbook. Some notable favorites include Roasted Pork Chops with Apple and Cabbage, and Spatchcock Chicken and Vegetables (shout out to parsnips!). Outside of the little Irish cookbook, we had many other staples in our house, some going back to when my sisters and I were young. If you were wondering about beverages, there was never a shortage of wine (Pinot Grigio, typically) and Arizona Green Tea.

Now, we need to talk about the centerpiece, “the glue”, of Monday night dinner.

I don't recall when Mom found the table, if it was before or after Monday night dinner began, or even where she picked it up, but this is THE table. A classic heavy, round wooden table with a chunky base, a table leaf, and of course a set of chairs. I believe there were five total, and over time, we found ourselves having to pull extra mismatched chairs to accommodate our fluctuating number of guests. Those were the best nights, when the table was so full you were bumping elbows. Plates might as well have been overlapping, serving dishes took up the center, and where do I put my glass? You would find yourself having to scoot your chair all the way back to free yourself from the seemingly gravitational pull of this particular table.

Time stopped at this table.

Mom commented a short while after we added this piece to our tradition. She noted that something about this table kept everyone seated. There were nights even my youngest sister (a teenager then) opted to hang around and chat. Although one could argue this was also due to her various friends that would join us, but they didn't seem eager to jump up as soon as the meal was done, either. Empty plates and used napkins meant the food was delicious and settling in, and it was time to clean up. But at this table, the dishes could wait...

We would talk about everything of course, as a family does. What is everyone up to? How is work? How is school? Have you talked to that one friend lately? Did I tell you about what your nephew did this week? Can I top off your wine? (The answer is always yes, by the way). We reminisced often. About earlier days, the good and the bad, our times of struggle and times of triumph. We always got out with a good story after our most outrageous incidents.

Later, Monday night dinner often rolled into “Monday night viewing”, whichever TV show or movie we all agreed on that week. This segment often came with dessert and tea. I could probably write an entire section on the dessert, “tea and biscuits”, and the couch.

Things change and time moves ever onward. Monday night dinner came to a close when life presented new chapters all around, but in the end our little tradition had served its purpose: a weekly solace in a turbulent time, a sanctuary.

The good news is that each of us are continuing to move towards the things we want most in life. The bad news? Well, we are all separated by a bit of distance now. A text message and a phone call, these things keep us connected no doubt.

That table? It kept us together. Mom still has it with her. I know it is waiting for us to gather once again with open seats and the promise of memories yet to be made.