Pizza, Salt and Family

I wrote this for class a few semesters ago, I enjoyed it and was just talking with my little brother about it and decided to share it with everyone. Enjoy.
             My father, two brothers, sister and I all sit at the dinner table, waiting quietly for our Mother to bring our dinner to us. My mother enters the dining room wearing a nice sun dress with an apron tied around her waist, a smile on her face, and her hair perfectly done up. She places our dishes in front of each of us, then sits down to join us. My father begins talking about his day and we all listen diligently, only speaking when we are spoken to. After we eat we all stand up give our mother a kiss, thanking her for a wonderful dinner, we head off to do our homework.

No, wait. That was an episode of Leave it to Beaver. This is more how dinner really went at my house while I was growing up.

 My siblings and I come home from a long day of school (unless I was already home because of disciplinary reasons), both my parents are still at work so we head to the pantry and start snacking on all the groceries my mom just bought. When we are finished nothing is left except for pasta, a can of beans, and some Spam. We then start our “homework”. Now this consisted of the boys playing Sega Genesis, and my sister closing herself in her room away from our obnoxiousness.

                This would continue until we spotted one of our parents coming into the driveway, at which point we quickly shut of the games. We weren’t allowed to play until our homework was done so we pulled out books and pretended to read.  My dad would usually ask if we did our homework; our reply would either be “I just had to read” or “I didn’t have any”, then my dad would go on some rant about how back in his day they actually gave homework. It was the same speech every day; if only he knew that we had a shitload of homework we just chose not to do it. The stacks of progress reports hidden under my mattress say the same thing.

                When both parents are finally in the house it was time for dinner —well almost. Dad and Mom would try to figure out what we were going to eat since they were both too tired to cook.  They would then take a look in the pantry and start yelling at us that those groceries were for the whole week and how they won’t be buying anymore, so we our shit out of luck (my mom’s favorite line). This wasn’t an empty threat; she stood by it, so come Tuesday there was nothing left to eat and we starved until dinner. I guess it was our fault but we never seemed to learn our lesson.

                Around 8 pm it was decided we would order a pizza. My dad called in the order and left to go pick it up. My mom was glued to her book in the corner of the couch, the TV on but no one is paying attention to it. Now at this time my two brothers and I were probably fighting and beating each other up mom would scream and threaten us with the wooden spoon. Now that threat would shut us up because the wooden spoon hurts, but we would always thank god she didn’t have a heavy rolling pin.

 My dad walked in with the pizza after what seemed to be hours to our stomachs. We all stormed the kitchen armed with our paper plates and red paper we attacked the pie. We take our slices to the table and sit in or designated spot; mom and dad headed to the living room with theirs.

                My little brother, who sat right next to me, would constantly peer over me to try and watch the TV in the living room. I would constantly hit him, because I didn’t like anyone looking over my shoulder. My sister would hit me for hitting my brother; my little brother would hit my older brother just for the hell of it, causing my dad to come into the room and smack me over the head for starting the whole thing.  We would finish dinner and head to our room to relax for the rest of the night until it was time for bed.

                Now this was a typical night at the family dinner table; the food would change but most everything else would stay the same. Some days my sister would pour a ton of salt onto my plate thinking it would be funny, and I would have to eat it, because god forbid I wasted the food. Other nights my brother would unscrew the cap on the pepper shaker and wait for my little brother to put it on his mashed potatoes. Dinner was everything but a perfect experience at my house, but it was time spent with my siblings that has helped us remain close even though no longer living under the same roof and for that I am thankful.