
Sunday Dinners are this great tradition that my family has. Every Sunday we head out to my parents or my Aunt and Uncles and we have a big sit down meal. It usually consists of a lot of wine, or a fair amount of beer. But we sit and enjoy each others company.
My mom will sometimes start a philosophical debate of some kind, and my dad will tell stories about his brothers and sisters and the crazy stunts they pulled.
My sister and I will giggle into our plates as we pass secret jokes with one look to one another. My cousins will tell us all about their hockey games, and their new boyfriends.
This past Sunday I really enjoyed more than most. I can't quite pinpoint what it was. It started with skating on my Aunt and Uncle's rink in the backyard. Seeing my hubby with Jake teaching him the finer points of hockey. Maybe it was the fresh air... The dinner itself was delicious. Not that mom's meals aren't good, they are. The fact that there was at least 4 or 5 vegetable items to choose from, and the home-made cake made it different.
Maybe it was watching Abbey feed Jake, or laughing with Kate as she made fun of her dad. Maybe it was that I found strange comfort in the rickety chairs that creaked as we rushed to pass the food around and fill our plates.
Whatever it was, it made me proud of my family. It made me glad that my mom started this tradition. I felt privileged to be a part of something bigger, something wonderful. And I take comfort in knowing that my son will grow up with some of the same values we had as kids. At least on Sundays.
Thanks mom.


