Dinner Conversation

The crinkled yellow Post-It note is in my monthly planner. The small note bears five words—happy, humorous, unique, loving, close.

These are the words my family, which includes my ex-husband, used to describe itself in May of this year.

We were playing a game I’d purchased for use at the dinner table. So often dinner is chaotic. I’m probably stuck in a Norman Rockwell painting, but I had visions of good conversation at the table. Silly me. There’s wriggling around, spills, two kids talking over one another, bathroom breaks, occasional burping. Fie on the statistics about families having dinner together. I started thinking that I should take dinner in my room.

The five of us, Bob, Morgan, Chris, Kelsey and I, are seated around an old rectangular dining table that my husband had as a bachelor. I love this old table. The legs are clearly marked by time, chairs, and little feet, but the top has been treated with something so that it still gleams.

In an attempt to make dinner time more meaningful and less martini inducing, I bought a game called The Family Dinner Box of Questions. I’d found it at Cracker Barrel way back in the sale corner. Fifty-two circular cards, each with a picture of a lattice-topped pie on the front and a conversation starter on the back. Every time you play, you choose a card, and then everyone at the table gets a chance to answer. Some of my favorite questions have been, “What is the best job in the world and why? What job would you never want?” Or, “What accomplishment are you most proud of?” I love this game, partially because it feeds my goal-oriented personality. There’s a clear beginning and end. And even my four-year-old can play. But it also has made for some special moments. Real conversation. And lots of fun.

This time the question was, “Using one word, how would you describe your family?”

Kelsey (age 4) said happy.

Morgan (age 11) said humorous.

Bob (ex-husband, age 48) said unique.

Christian (husband, age 37) said loving.

Kathy (that’s me, age 40) said close.

I wrote down the words almost immediately. They are precious to me. Proof that it is possible to recover from divorce and blend a family. Ours happens to include my ex-husband. He doesn’t live with us. But he can usually be found here in the evenings having dinner, playing with the kids, and helping out. It’s odd, I know. Part of the fun of being friends with your ex is the shock value when you mention that he changes the oil in your husband’s car. Of course, it was not always this way. But today, my family is complete. In this blog I will tell the stories of the past and present, a mosaic of small broken pieces that form one picture. One family.

We are happy. We are humorous. We are unique. We are loving. We are close.

And I am grateful.