Tuesday Night Dinner

When my children are living at home, the door swings open and it could mean just one kid home for 5 minutes, or it could mean my own child (or two) and six friends coming in for dinner. I love this. If I have to put some extra pasta in the pot, some extra beans in the chili, or an extra leaf in the table to accommodate a crowd, I’m a happy mama.

It always feels a bit breathless, though, as it’s generally last minute. But I even miss that part, that make-it-up-as-you-go element that happens when you’re parenting. I mean, cooking.

When the kids all went off to college, I thought it would be nice to preserve a little of that spur-of-the-moment, extended family and friends time. And my friends had been talking about all the empty nesters in the neighborhood, and how it was not uncommon that a single person would be sitting alone at her dinner table, just down the street from another person sitting alone. Why not get together?

So we created Tuesday Night.

The original idea was to open my door every Tuesday to whoever was around for dinner. My lovely friends turned it into a taking-turns sort of endeavor, so now we trade off hosting. 

Sometimes, it’s true, with all our busy schedules, work demands and aspirations to finish that garden project, fit in another client, attend yoga, or dance, or zumba, Tuesday night can feel like one more thing to fit in. And when it sneaks up on you, it reminds me of the last-minute requests from when the kids were small: birthday cupcakes for the classroom, remembered the night before, or a pink leotard required for ballet class next day, when the only dance supply store that’s still open is in some obscure neighborhood half an hour away.

But like so many worthwhile endeavors, Tuesday night pays off.

Last week, we had all three couples involved, plus Joseph’s daughter, home from two years of living abroad, and her boyfriend. Once, Joseph’s brother dropped in unexpectedly, and brought a good bottle of wine and a fresh perspective to the table (thanks, Dave, for goosing our liberal ideals!). Assorted children appear as they pass through our households, or sometimes it’s just two of us at the table. It is a safe place to discuss anything and everything, and we do. Conversations range from aging parents to presidential debates, unions and education to travel adventures. The food is always great, and the company is even better.

We don’t put on the faces we wear to parties; we wear the faces that have just finished the work day, the faces of a Tuesday night. Like a family. Which is why we no longer call this weekly gathering Tuesday Night. We call it Family Dinner.