Family Dinner

Posted on by Live & Learn

The Four Freedoms, Freedom from want

6:30 pm. Saturday evening. Family sits for dinner.

Susan is sitting to my right. A hummingbird, fluttering her wings, spreading honey.

Rachel to my left. Her boyfriend Andrew, next to her. Rachel’s jabbering on about her first week of full-time work. She’s coming down, down from the high of college graduation, and seeing the next 30 year highway of her life. Commuting. Work. Exhaustion. Weekends. Loop it back and hard again. (Is that the gratitude Bus Rachel has pulled up for her Mom & Dad?)

Eric, is down at the end of the table. He’s sneaking glances at his phone. I glare. He puts the phone back in his pocket.

Zeke’s laying under the table. Hoping for something, anything to hit the floor.

And there’s The King, at the head of the table. Fork in the right. Scepter in the left. (Surveilling the landscape. Inhaling it deep into the lungs. Same somber script running. Eagles and Peaceful Easy Feeling is playing. Sand racing through the hourglass. How many of these do we have left?)

“Dad, look at Eric’s guns.”
“Guns?”
“His biceps. They’re bigger than yours.”
I glance at Eric’s “guns.”
He looks down. And blushes. (Did I see a smirk?)

He doesn’t take the bait. Unlike his warrior Dad, he’s an evolved being. He won’t poke at the Bull. He knows, one word, it takes just one word, and his Dad, half-man, half-Neanderthal will drag him outside to wrestle. Even old Bulls can be dangerous.

The Kids are drinking wine with their Mom.  Dad abstains. Tongues are loose and wagging. Conversation runs from reminiscing about family vacations to sharing our most embarrassing moments.  “Eric shakes his entire body when using the salt shaker!” “Rachel wasn’t potty trained until she was two…and used to hide behind furniture to do her do-do!”

Rachel and I are sitting alone while the table is being cleared.

“Honey, are you ready to sign the contract?”
“Contract?”
“Yes, in exchange for living rent-free at home.”
“What’s in the contract?”
“One condition.”
“That’s it?” (She’s wary. She knows her Dad. Even 1 can be impossible.) “What is it?”
“You will agree then?”
“Dad, how can I agree to something when I don’t know what it is?”
“A non-negotiable 5 year term.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you can live rent-free, only if you agree to live here, under our roof, for five years.”
“Dad, you’re nuts!”

She looks at me, and laughs.
Then stops. Her Dad wasn’t laughing.
She understood.
She did.

Image: Norman Rockwell’s “Freedom From Want” by Sam Spratt

30 thoughts on “Family Dinner”

  6. First of all – do not wrestle with Eric anymore – he will win, and he should. Andy wrestled one time too far with our eldest and ended up with a broken collarbone. There comes a time…
    Dads and daughters. You want her to sign and stay and you want her to fly and soar. What do these two different thoughts have in common? They move forward and we’re still here holding the bottle of bubbles. Enjoy their flights; they’ll always come home.

    1. Smiling. On the wrestling, I’m afraid you are right. I’m worried about things not bending like they used to.

      As to letting her fly and soar, they h*ll with that. Bring out the heavy link chains and anchor.

  10. Lovely post, David. You describe the family dinner we all have at some point. Enjoyable, contemplative. Then the fledglings fly away…but they’ll be back. You’ll need a bigger table and an assortment of high chairs. And lots of honey.

  14. “Bang bang. He shot me down. Bang bang. I hit the ground. Bang bang. My baby shot me down”. Eric’s guns foretold by Cher no less? At least I don’t have to worry about being outgunned, but setting my little one free is not something I want to even contemplate at this stage. And, really, fork in the right hand? …. I thought you were a member of the Commonwealth.

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