Grindin’: Once An Immigrant….

Every once in a while I catch a glimpse of our dining room table and it hits me how far Snuggle Biscuit and I have come from our Caribbean roots. My mother would have never allowed casual meals at her dining table. The same thing goes for Snuggle Biscuit’s grandmother with whom she lived while growing up. Funny thing is, because our folks are Caribbean, the “special events” were few and far in between. Instead, the tables often sat idle, perfectly set and everyone knew to steer clear of them if you want to avoid the wrath of the Woman of the House.

In our house however, the dining table functions as a desk, storage counter, and occasional dining area. It’s used so often that it’s the inverse of the ones we had growing up.

I’d ask what my mother thinks of our behavior, but since she only sees the table during “special events” aka her visits, she’ll never be the wiser.