I'm fortunate enough to be able to stuff food in my mouth pretty much whenever I want to. If there isn't food in the kitchen, I've been blessed to have the means to go out and get some. I'm grateful for the ability to keep myself nourished and to do the same for my family. I truly am.
I'm also thankful that I've been able for the vast majority of my life to have family to share meals with. Growing up, every supper was shared as a family. I can't stress how much that means to me now. It was a priceless gift my parents gave my sister and I.
My favorite meal of the week has always been Sunday breakfast and supper. Waking up to the smell of bacon or sausage was magnificent. Making sugar rolls with my mom was the best. Being assigned to make the toast for everyone was a job I actually took fairly seriously. Not sure why; just seemed important at the time. Sunday meals were even better. Smelling a meal cooking all day long that you can't wait to partake in was a tantalizing gift.
I'm not sure if my kids will look back on meals with the same reverence. I doubt it. We have different lives than the one I had as a boy. The world is far more hectic. Schedules are far different. There simple aren't the same opportunities to sit down each and every night and dig in together. I've accepted that this is the reality we live with, but it's still a shame. My hope is that my kids will perhaps make sharing meals together as a family their own tradition, but if not, I'm confident they'll have others they'll share. Whatever those traditions may be, I hope they're as fulfilling and meaningful as Sunday meals have been for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment