civilized, we are

Last Sunday at the dinner table, Eva said to her grandfather, “Your hamburger is upside down.” He smiled and placed it on his plate, carefully turned it the upside way and took another bite.

I’ve noticed that he eats slowly. I don’t know when this happened, or if it has been happening bite by bite these past several years. I don’t have memories of my father being a careful eater. I mean that in the way that I am not a very careful eater. I sometimes eat standing up, I often eat too fast, I don’t chew enough times, and, when at home, I rarely pause to consider the pleasure of the meal.

This has become more apparent to me now that I share the evening meal, several times a week, with my father. He does all of the right things, now, at the dinner table. He is clearly eating less, and when I am finished, lickety-split, right after the two young teens, he is still enjoying the tastes and textures of the meal.

He comments on the menu, how tasty it is, how rather lucky we are to have it.

He lingers and enjoys...this is new for him.

If we don’t watch it, I might have to change my habits to slow down with him.