Dinner’s Ready

Happy holiday remembrances usually involve the smells of wonderful things cooking and baking while mothers or grandmothers labored in the kitchen. The rest of the family waited eagerly for that announcement, “Dinner’s ready,” so they could crowd together around a table and praise the food and eat too much. If you had a happy family, and happy memories, you’re really remembering the love. Do that. Remember the love.

Use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “dinner’s ready.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

6 thoughts on “Dinner’s Ready”

  1. She was about fifteen then and understood that when the church bells rang at five o’clock each weekday she was to return home to her grandmother’s for dinner. Marie used to be a tomboy. She loved climbing over rocks and walking the trail along the aqueduct that ran to the rear of the neighborhood main street. Unfortunately she lost all sense of time so that there were times she just simply did not hear the church bells. On the other hand there were times when she really was having so much fun she didn’t care about the church bells signal. Her grandmother was in her fifties then and suffered with severe arthritis so that she could barely walk and her fingers were deformed into odd curled up shapes. There were several times that her grandmother trudged up the steep hill that led to the aqueduct to find her. Marie knew she was really in big trouble when that happened. Now that Maria is in her seventies and feeling the discomforts of an older age she thinks back to those times long ago when the bells rang to signal “dinner’s ready” and she disobeyed. She felt sad thinking about her grandmother having to take care of her two grandchildren while her mother worked after raising her own three children. She felt sad thinking about how inconsiderate she had been. Now she fully understood.

  2. It’s a time when life is changed for the whole family, both near and far. My sister used to hostess every family gathering by choice. She died three years ago. My brother- in-law sold the house; is feeling his old age. The others of us oldies are in the same boat which leaves out our places as ground zero for celebrations. None of us with the infirmities of old age can walk the three flights required to get to the only other central homestead. Everyone else require a car to travel for togetherness. No family member gets to announce, “Dinner’s ready” anymore. Usually we acknowledge it by our presence at the chosen restaurant when the waiter arrives. .

  3. Dinner was the big meal of the day . All could sit around the large coal stove , warm their hands , and swap stories . The kitchen exuded warmth , in ways more than one . It was tiny ; they could hardly stand upright without their heads banging on rafters.

    “Dinner’s ready ” meant you had to drop everything you were doing , and help in laying the table . Grandpa had to have a towel spread on his lap , to avoid soiling his pyjamas. My elder sister , in fits of anorexia , would hastily pass spoonfuls of rice onto our plates , when we were not looking . This would spark mock warfare . Curries were delicious , always. Rice fluffy , and chapatis soft. My mom was a master cook , and grand mom an efficient vizier of sorts .

    Sweetmeats were always fought upon . We were four raucous, growing teens . Under the watchful gaze and tight purse of my granny , no food was ever wasted. Leaving food in your plate was a criminal offence , and my anorexic sister was a habitual offender . “Eat up or you will be a sickly stick like her ” was a common mantra.

  4. DINNER’S READY!!!!! , never sounded the same as did from the wrought iron bell hanging from the side of the camp. The echo from that bell could be heard from across the lake, bouncing off the green mountains of Vermont. The kids were young then all off busy in different places around the camp. You could call them for one thing or another without a response, not so with the dinner bell.

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