Whose The Third Person at the Kitchen Table?

Kitchen table, Diamond MinecartMy morning routine has changed dramatically. Where once I rode the bus and subway with strangers (all the gory details here), now I’m at home with strangers.

That’s right I’m home with strangers. I don’t mean my family is strangers. While it’s true it’s been years since I saw my wife and children on a Tuesday morning at 8:00 a.m. in October, the change is not so dramatic that I don’t recognize them.

Never the less, there is a stranger in my house each morning. This guest is not at the front door. This guest is at kitchen table. Let me back up. Every weekday morning, I go to synagogue and pray. When I come home, I head to the kitchen table.

SJ sits in the same chair every day. He eats the same food (a bagel smeared with both cream cheese and cheese and a blueberry waffle) every day. He is the ultimate creature of habit. These days, I join him at the kitchen table and eat my breakfast.

Picture that. A dad and his son sharing quality time in the morning over the kitchen table. Isn’t that nice? Really, it’s Hallmark worthy.

If only, that was the case. Sigh.

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