It happened once every April. My mom, dad, two brothers and my mom's mom got together around the table for the one meal that stood apart from all others that year. This grubfest is called Easter Brunch.
My brothers and I were raised Roman Catholic by our parents, whom were both brought up with strong Italian American heritage. This is the most important holiday to the Catholics, which is why their celebrations are so full of decadence. My immediate family remained pretty health conscious throughout the year which is partly why brunch was anticipated.
After the usual 10:30 mass we would head back home, undo our ties and help get the table ready for our celebration. My mother would open up the armoire and take out her yellow and pink Spring floral china. Each plate, napkin and coffee mug were meticulously placed. We usually said some kind of prayer as well as an acknowledgement of thanks for everyone being able to be together. We all recognized the love and warmth around that table.
Politely but eagerly everyone worked their way around the table. On our plates we'd pile everything from zucchini quiche and fresh fruit salad to green olives and hard boiled eggs. In the middle of the table was a plate of fresh cold cuts and cheeses, which were all neatly fanned out. On it was salami, capicola and prosciutto surrounded by chunks of gorgonzola, feta and fontina. The feature of the meal was always my mother and grandmother's Easter Pena, which is a sweet white bread with a golden brown crust. A few loaves were frozen to be eaten later, but it never tasted the same.
After gorging ourselves we'd sit around the table with empty plates and full stomachs. We would sip coffee and quietly enjoy each other's company. My mother would look out the kitchen window at her garden that was just beginning to bloom. My father would drum his knife on the place mat while his mind wandered. Sometimes he would ask us questions or discuss important matter but he usually just remained quiet. My grandmother would sneak little pieces of lunch meat and bread to our cocker spaniel Kirby underneath the table. This always upset my father but she didn't care. Kirby deserved to celebrate as well.
There are plenty of holidays throughout the year when our family gets together. There is Thanksgiving and Christmas but this was different. This celebration was just us and no one else. For two hours out of the year we had our time to eat, relax and appreciate one another. The memories of these times will be with me forever.
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2 comments:
The transition to close leaves the reader with a more complete feeling. The detail to family picture has broadened to allow my to understand more deeply the connection, ex. grandmother feeding the dog, father not liking it, father drumming with table, and speaking only when having something of value or depth to talk about.
You offered quite the visual on the sight of the table, but it seems as though you assume your reader will find the same delight in the menu you gave. If you offer a menu, then follow it with a hint of sensory fulfillment, even someone who does not agree with your sense of delicious, can identify more closely with your situation and appreciation.
I think your description of family gatherings is good in that it's easy to relate too. The part about your grandmother feeding the dog under the table was great, there are always little things in families that are there but aren't always accepted. I liked the descriptions of the family traditions and what the dinner consisted of. I wonder more about the interaction of the family members with each other? It doesn't seem like they interacted with each other as much as they did with the meal.
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