Food has been my long time go-to for relief from stress. It's always there, never asks questions and feels good going down. But it wasn't until more recently I discovered that food is also my good time. Happy news? .. bring on the brownies! Completed that mile run? .. let's have pizza!
I grew up in a household where food was associated with celebration - ALWAYS. But a lot of people experience this. I think I took it to the next stage.. it became and has been off and on in my life.. a lifeline that it isn't meant to be. I kind of hate that.
Project Part 2: Dinner Table
I sat at the family dinner table to the left, right by the kitchen window. I don't remember where everyone else sat.. just that I always seemed to be on the left of the big formica top 1950s style table. I remember the food.. oh the food! My mother was a glorious cook and dinner was almost always something tasty with a sweet chaser.. because she loved to make desserts.
What I remember is emotion. I remember drama. I remember hard feelings at the dinner table. Not every night.. but enough that the memories there stir up my soul, make me edgy. The drama revolved around my sister and mother.. almost always. My dad and I pretend fought over the well done part of the meat. He was my hero.. and always kind. But with my mother and sister in the mix.. and maybe a visiting brother, it could be uncomfortable.
Happy memories of food.. yes. Awkward or heated discussions between other family members.. yes. If there was good food at the table, I didn't need a voice in the drama.. and I really didn't want one.