The Death of the Dining Table
My world began at a kitchen table. Over plates of sticky rice and empanadas, I learned about language and culture. When my parents discussed elections, I learned about politics and government. I was taught expectations and manners here: Don’t move your legs; don’t slurp your food; don’t eat before your dad does. The kitchen table taught me the persistently frustrating art of family conversations, and chores at the table taught me responsibility. Throughout my life, I’ve hated, adored, feared, and respected this sacred spot, but then it was gone.