Silence at the Dinner Table
Forks clattered on our plates. Lips smacked. chew, chew. Mmmm… My mom’s left hand scooped up rice and curry and balled it with her palm and fingers. Someone’s cup rattled unsteadily and noisily against the table.
…and sometimes classical music weaves through the air, satiating the silence.
This what dinner is usually like at our house. Silent but full of good food, always.
The thing is, you see, is that my family doesn’t really talk that much wherever we go…
The silence is not supposed to be awkward, and it is never filled with tension. Simply, there’s no apparent need to fill the air with words. Life plays out and we all experience nearly the same thing, so I guess we don’t need to bring it up again. Personally, I don’t enjoy the silence that ensues at the table or in the car. There’s times when I appreciate the space my parents give me to think, but not at this length.
As an adult growing into her twenties, I am discovering myself more — the things my family has traditionally done — I find to be bothersome or helpful for life.
In this silence, I often want to open up about:
- how college is going
- the friends/ professors who have impacted me
- the fears and ideas I have about my future
- hear about my parents’ childhoods (I love listening to them telling stories of growing up in India)
- stories about their families
- how my parents are doing, and simply…
- what they are thinking about.
But I have to hold back due to several unmentionable reasons.
I have tried to break the silence many times (I chuckled typing that). SOMEtimes, my comment or question will descend into silence, and then it will become awkward for me.
I should note that due to some cultural differences, my parents don’t say the American “I love you” often. 10 years ago, I think I’d heard my mom say that once to me in my whole life and back then, it bothered me. To clarify (if you haven’t gotten wind of how my family is like yet )— their “I love you” version translates into actions and the tough sacrifices they have made. Growing up, I used to be troubled hearing other parents at church endearingly vocalize that to their children as they got picked up. I would come home and no one said I love you. Today I see the love of my parents and sometimes, hearing their “love” is harsh. Sometimes even if they don’t mean to hurt, their truths come off that way — to that point, the love they think they give can hurt more than help.
I wonder how my [future] family will be like one day… if God blesses me with one. I would want our family to feel comfortable opening up about their lives (and any crushes they have, haha). I think due to this disconnect I have with my parents, I ask for education from some of my siblings, Google, or friends and confide in them (not in Google). Despite experiencing this with my parents, I am so very thankful for the support the show me in OTHER ways.
