Last night I had drinks with a really good friend of ours. He is divorced and we talk about all sorts of things when we hang out. Last night we started talking about making dinner. I was sharing with him that I have always been the one to make dinner. I never really liked it…I don’t really like cooking…but it was one of the things that I have always done for our family…especially during those years when I was home with the kids during the day and Jason was at work. Now it is just a chore. I make dinner by myself. The kids come up and eat for five minutes…if I’m lucky…and then bounce their separate ways and leave me to do the dishes by myself. I know I could get them to help me…get them to sit with me more…yada yada…but it just all feels forced. Like it’s a time when we all feel the absence of Jason so keenly and we just want to get it f’ing over with.

I think that conversation must have been stewing in my head last night because I bounced out of bed this morning and jotted this down…


I used to like dinnertime.

Making dinner
Waiting for you to come home
For your car
Garage door up
Car door slam
The yip of happy dogs.

You open the doors
Your eyes search for me
Settle the dogs down
Make your way to my side
Wrap your arms around my body
Kiss my lips
Home at last

I used to like dinnertime.

Refill the wine
Call the kids to the table
Stories of the day
Secret looks across the table
Proud of these humans
Our family

Dinner’s over
Kids go their ways
Sharing tasks
As we clean the kitchen
A dance

I used to like dinnertime

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