The entirety of my family just sat adown togethe ran date breakfast for the firs time in I believe years. And my dad cooked.
I feel like that picture of the American dream that we all have heard stereotyped in the media, where there’s a gleaming white picket fencing perched proudly outside some tediously maintained cape house, with a son that plays football and daughter who is all encompassed with dolls and dress-up, with a family that eats dinner together every night. Honestly, it doesn’t feel too bad. We may go back to fighting each other constantly, yelling and talking over one another to be heard; we might not be able to eat together for the rest of the week, or the rest of the month; we might not even all be in the same room for a while. But, I’m really glad that we shared this moment this morning. It made me feel the love, instead of the the lack.
