I love intimate family traditions. There used to be a whole lot of them when I was a kid, but with time, they have dissolved and new ones have evolved.
There used to be breakfasts on Sundays, which I used to make with my Mum’s help. There were walks in the garden with Mum and baby sister in a pram. There were summers at Grandmom’s. There were annual picnics to the Zoo. There was dinner with Dad and sister. As we grew up, we swapped home cooked breakfast for cereal, the garden was swapped for homework, Grandmom was no more, the Zoo was boring and diet took over and dinner was just a cup of milk.
But there are new traditions we have set. Celebrating Mother’s Day with a meal at Mum’s favourite restaurant, watching a film together every once in a while, taking a walk whenever the father’s mood permits (its hard to drag him out for exercise!)
I love traditions. Of late, the timings are tight. Both me and my sister work in different corners of the city. We get so tired by the end of the day that our catching up happens in our bedroom. Thank God we share that space.
Me and my parents usually catch up over some random newspaper scanning and breakfast.
The weekends bring a golden opportunity to interact. But there are friends to meet, chores to be done and before you know it, the weekend’s over. That’s why we need these traditions to make sure that there is time slotted in for family. My parents are fairly liberal and don’t complain but why do I always take them for granted when it comes to time. Its not that they are not my priority, but I know if I can’t get enough time out for them, they will understand. Isn’t it sad?