Sunday Night Dinner

Challenge Prompt:Leftovers | Word Count: 500 words exactly | Genre
Due Date: 11/7/18
(This also is not the story I will turn in for the challenge, but I enjoyed writing it and maybe you will enjoy reading it)

“Margaret Jean, I’ve asked you three times to set the table; come do it now.” You know you’re in trouble when Mom calls you by your full birth name. I sighed, putting aside my well-worn copy of “The Outsiders.”

It was 5:45 and Mom was in the kitchen plating food. She barely acknowledged me as I came in and pulled a stack of plates out of the cupboard. She always told me not to try to carry all ten plates at once, but my eleven-year-old arms were strong, and I knew I could handle them.

“Ron, you and your brothers go wash up for supper,” Mom called into the living room where they were watching TV; then motioned for Kati to hang up the phone. “And round up Terye and Mary as well.”

I set out the napkins and silverware while Mom carried the roast in, placing the platter in a prominent position on the table. I went back for mashed potatoes, Mom brought in gravy and peas. Dad strolled in and took his place at the head of the table as I went after rolls and Jell-O. The four boys began filing in, followed by the three girls.

Mom and I took our places and conversations quieted for a moment while Dad praised the meal and took the first slice of roast beef. The chatter started up again. I could hear five distinct conversations as we began serving and passing dishes.

It was ritual. We ate at the table every night; always at 6O’clock. Now that we were all “grown,” the rules were simple: take what you want, eat what you take. Never take more than will be enough to go around; you can go back for seconds if there are any. Always take some of everything.

I noticed Ron only put about four peas on his plate. Good thing Dad didn’t notice, or he’d have ended up with another spoonful. Good thing for the rest of us too, because we had to stay at the table until everyone was done eating. Dessert didn’t get served until then.

“What’s for dessert?” Dad asked, mopping up the last bit ofgravy on his plate with his roll.

“Pineapple upside down cake,” Mom proclaimed proudly, as she initiated the stacking routine now that everyone was done eating. By the time she brought the cake to the table, all ten plates were neatly scraped and stacked at the end of the table, silverware precariously placed on top.

Mom divvied up the cake while the ice cream carton was passed around, and, since Dad was monitoring portion control, I knew there’d be some left when it came around to me.

Afterwards, I cleared the table and helped put the leftovers away. Terye and Tim were on dish duty this week, and they finished just as the NBCLiving Color Peacock announced the start of the Sunday night Wonderful World of Disney. It was all part of the ritual. And I loved it.