Called to Dinner

Belonging, once so important, is fading with age. I want my belongings warm and fuzzy. If not, I abandon them. Younger, I would have stuck them out, but not to gain healthy introspection.  Back in the day belonging was born out of desperate need. As to where desperate went, I will save my conjectures for another time.

When in the process of joining something new, I engage in a memory of a past belonging. An almost forgotten scene arrives in my mind.  Not only with personalities, but with warm and fuzzy enzymes that provide the comforts of acceptance. So powerful  are these belongings that they can simultaneously feed my need for community and my desire not to be alone.

A most important memory of belonging is family.  When I was living at home as a boy and received an invitation to dinner, it is not the food I remember as much as the attentions from which I was called. I was most always engaged in a creative moment and it is these moments I bring back inclusive of the familiar voice of my mother saying, “Bob, dinner is ready.”

Offering me her best and on a consistent schedule provided me a time when I could be at the top rung of Maslow’s pyramid of needs. My needs of basic necessity well provided, I was not only fed in body, but in soul.

My mother, an excellent cook, presented an attractive table, inclusive of table cloth and cloth napkins. She always had a center piece which frequently included fresh flowers and lit candles. Our conversations were friendly and engaging. All of this I thought normal.

Unfortunately, puberty arrived  and upset our pyramid of needs. Normal was trumped by natural and for this my mother and I proved ill equipped.

8 thoughts on “Called to Dinner

  1. SirenaTales October 9, 2014 / 5:56 pm

    Thank you for this honest, insightful, and poignant post, FF. Your writing is imbued with warmth and humanity I appreciate.

    • fictionfitz October 10, 2014 / 6:32 am

      As always, thanks Sirena, I was hoping some of that came through. Most likely expanding it into part of a memoir piece.

    • fictionfitz October 10, 2014 / 6:33 am

      Bet your a good cook.

  2. Marilyn Armstrong October 10, 2014 / 12:05 pm

    “Normal” changes. For all of us. The ability to be flexible and roll with the punches is never-ending. One day, at my home, it became all too obvious no one wanted to do those sit down family dinners any more. Timing was difficult, the youngster was glued to a cell phone … and it was a lot of work if no one really wanted it.

    I set my family free. And myself, too.

    • fictionfitz October 11, 2014 / 7:57 am

      Setting free is what I have been reading about. For men to free themselves of their mothers so that they can find/see their
      feminine side. Now those days of sit down dinners are but fond memories. Susan and I watch television while we eat unless we set the scene for a date night and then we sit at the dining room table but we eat fast.

      • Marilyn Armstrong October 11, 2014 / 9:42 am

        Us too. I don’t see the point in the big dining table with just Garry and I sitting there. We are together almost all the time anyhow, so it’s not like we only see each other at dinner!

      • fictionfitz October 11, 2014 / 9:47 am

        Exactly! Took me a while.

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