Mom’s been in the kitchen for some time,
Cleaning, dicing, chopping and prepping,
All the veggies, meat and whatever,
Putting together tonight’s dinner.
While the meat is bathing in spices,
The veggies sit and wait patiently,
Some will become part of a salad,
What’s left will be graciously plated.
Mom’s magical hands create something,
A five star restaurant would envy,
Appetizer, entrée and dessert,
Out of everyday pantry staples.
In the midst of setting the table,
I hear Dad’s key unlock the front door,
As I finish the current setting,
I hurry up to welcome him home.
He goes to greet Mom in the kitchen,
With a gentle kiss and a few words,
He then cleaned up and changed for dinner,
Then, I finished setting the table.
Mom brought her finished masterpiece out,
Set it down in the table’s center,
Dad took his seat at the table’s head,
Mom and I, across from each other.
Dad, the pack leader, served first, then me,
Mom took last, with what was remaining,
Tonight’s dinner was ethnic, comfort,
Nothing special, but homemade with love.
As Dad complimented Mom’s talent,
Combining flavor, quantity, thrift,
In creating something delicious,
Spontaneous dialogue occurred.
Most evening conversations were light,
Sharing a memory or a laugh,
From something that happened in our day,
Or flashing back to simpler good times.
Some evening conversations challenged,
Their own patience and parenting skills,
From discussing my latest progress,
Or how I just skimmed by on a test.
The highlight of my day was dinner,
From Mom’s home-cooked meals every night,
To time together as family,
We created cherished memories
When I started working in high school,
Now, I was the last one to come home,
From my long day of both school and work,
They both waited, as if nothing changed.
With each passing year, I see changes,
My dinners with them are less often,
But remain memorable and heartfelt,
Until time calls them home to Heaven.
Leaving me with lifetime memories,
Which started at the dinner table,
I reminisce on how much I miss,
Having dinner with both my parents,
I try to share this with today’s youth,
In their hurry, fail to hear my cry,
Without care to a milestone missed,
Towards their last rite of passage in life.
