As a child, Sunday Dinner was not a big thing… or, at least I can’t recall that it was.

No. I am pretty sure that every dinner was a big thing.

Dinner on a regular basis, was prepared, eaten, and enjoyed together. Seated next to, and across from, your siblings and your parents.

Making each other laugh, telling tall tales about each other – kids and adults alike – and sometimes, falling off the chair (or the bench as it were,) in the process. You only have to do that once to ensure that you will be constantly reminded of it…hey sis, you know who you are.

As a teen, I met friends who had a big, family dinner on Sunday. While these were often friends who were Italian, sometimes they were from  other cultures, but you all know scene.

It is iconic.

The idea of a big pot of gravy on the stove, simmering all day, if for no other reason than from movies…

but, I think, as much as I love dipping the end of the bread in the bubbling pot, I prefer the practice of enjoying each night, one night at a time, Sunday through Saturday – whether it is at a restaurant, at a friend’s house, at a picnic, at school/college – or even, and maybe most of all, at home.

Those meals, every one of them, even pancakes, nachos or a platter of cheese and fruit, are more near and dear to me and far better than any big, elaborate meal on one particular day of the week.

No, we didn’t to the “traditional” Sunday Dinner when I was growing up.  In continuing the tradition, my husband and the kids don’t either, but what we do is still quite wonderful – and sometimes, it is a big meal on Sunday, but it doesn’t have to be.

~ Dawn aka Hat Girl