I had dinner with an old friend on Saturday. We tried for several weeks to get together for dinner and a catch-up. Sunday was a better evening for him.
“I cook dinner for my boys on Sunday,” I said “Sunday evening doesn’t work for me.” The first conversation that he brought up on Saturday after we sat down in a chic restaurant was my cooking dinner for my boys on Sundays.
My sons are in their mid-twenties, single and busy launching their lives. Dinner with me is a happening every Sunday when they are in town. And, they must drive across town to get to my place. They have lived in other cities for extended periods of time. Yet when they are living in the city, I never cancel. They do sometimes. My friends will atttest to me cutting the 19th hole short to dash home to get dinner ready for the boys. I am not a great cook – getting better – at times I do confuse ” dunking” with “marinating”.
Years ago when my sons’ lives got busy with school activities, hockey schedules and time with their Dad, the only day that was left when the three of us could sit down together was Sunday night. Did they try to get out of it? Absolutely, often. Trust me, at times life would have been easier if I cancelled. Yet, I know now that it was during those difficult times when the Sunday dinner routine was most needed.
Now, as young men, they could cancel every week. They don’t. They often call me to check, “See you Sunday Mom for dinner.” Sometimes, they eat and run. Sometimes they stay longer. Sometimes they are very talkative, sometimes not at all. No matter what, dinner is ready.
Sunday is a way of grounding us – of connecting us to the ordinary parts of our lives. My sons love sports. I glance at the sports page on a regular basis. It allows me to begin a non-invasive conversation ( i.e. Tiger, Olympics, Marc Savard & Matt Cooke) that often goes beyond sport.
I realize that each Sunday night dinner with my boys is a blessing. I won’t cancel.