Around the dinner table

I wish I could show you what my family's dinner table looked like. Dad made it, as simply as he could, so we could all fit around it and still have a bit of room (with a squeeze) for visitors. There were eleven of us, so I guess you can imagine the size of it. He made it from MDF and contact lino, all put together in the actual room, because there was no way he could get it through the doorway of the small room. It had a slight bow in the middle, as the weight of the top hung over the frame he'd used from a previous (big) table. Length-ways, it butted up to the end of one wall. Four seats could fit on each side, with two at the top end. The highchair would then be on the corner, which later was replaced with a chair. When visitors arrived, we'd move the table away from the wall and squeeze in more chairs.

The walls weren't bare, either. Since we were all going to be in one place, Mum used the walls to display a huge map of Australia, timetables, flags of the world, and any other posters she found that were deemed 'educational'.

Behind the two chairs that were at the head of the table was the dresser, with the telephone, a small supply of reading books, reference books and a few of Mum's special glass wares on display. It was the central point of the home, where all school notices, library books, etc. accumulated. Poor Mum! I wonder how she kept track of it all, because I'm sure I'd have looked at that pile and said "It should be in there, somewhere!"

I still have good memories of us all being in that dining room, around that table. Mum and Dad don't have it there any longer, and when I was last in their dining room I was trying to remember how it all actually looked. It really is a small space and that table used to consume most of it.

However, it's not the actual table that was the most important thing. It was the fact that my parents made an effort to have us all together at meal time. It was the place where we'd finally meet up together and share our day.

It's a rare night here, in my family now, where we don't eat together. My children usually start the conversation with "So, Papa, how was your day?" It makes me laugh each time. I don't know who started it, who taught them to say that, but that's how it would all start. We would then hear about each person's day, in turn.

Last night, I wanted to especially direct the conversation toward Maestro's hopes for next year's schooling. It was 9:30pm when we finished, although Mariposa had excused herself earlier to play and get ready for bed. Questions and ideas were all put forward between hubby, Maestro and myself. We talked about highlights of the year, friendships, struggles and disappointments, other things he wants to learn ... and I was watching my son throughout this whole time. He knew that we were showing him interest, that he mattered to us.

We ended the night with lots of hugs and kisses, and then today started off the same way. This is why I'm writing this post, because it reaffirmed to me the importance of sharing our time with our children. The memories I had of talking around the dinner table all came back. It's the place of meeting together and strengthening the family bond. If I remember these times with my family, hopefully my children will reflect fondly on similar memories when they are older.