I grew up in India and for the first 10 years of my life, dinner started the same way. My mother would tell me to bow my head, and together our family would say the dinner prayer. “Goddace graciously, Goddace goose, thank you. Amen." I remember synchronizing the words as if I knew the prayer, pretending to remember it. In fact, for a long time I thought the dinner prayer was in a foreign language, it seemed so strange .Even though I had no idea what I was trying to say, I bowed my head and recited, “God is good, God is great, let us thank Him for our food.” Say no to plagiarism. a custom essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get an original essay Every evening our family sat on the white living room floor and ate dinner. We all sat shoulder to shoulder, in a straight line. . I was sitting next to my father and my sister was sitting next to me, who was sitting next to my mother. My father was sitting next to a pale pink wall with the Si phone on it. the phone would ring during dinner, he would answer with an echoed “Hello” and quickly ask the person to call back later. After prayer, my father would turn on the television and we would always watch Crime Patrol. I asked a lot of questions throughout the show, and it was only during the commercials that my mom would try to answer my questions. I asked the same questions over and over again, but no matter how many times I asked them, my mother would always patiently explain. Many days my father did not come home for dinner. The phone would ring around five o'clock when my mother would usually make our dinner, stop to answer the phone, and learn that he couldn't make it in time for dinner. On those evenings, she let my sister and I watch whatever we wanted on television. We often watched cartoons. If it was later in the evening, we would watch Doraemon. Little by little, the dinner became more responsible. It was my job to pour the chocolate milk, because I was bigger and stronger than my sister, more capable of pouring a large gallon of milk into our glasses. She was responsible for setting the table, although I couldn't stand that she always made mistakes, so I followed behind her, put the ceramic plates in the right place and folded the napkins. At some point, my family moved beyond the “God is great” prayer and moved on to our own impromptu devotions. My biggest fear at dinner time (apart from the presence of gourd and gourd on my plate (an ugly dish of vegetables), my mother started randomly asking me to bless the meal. I couldn't stand to bless this, because I didn't know how to do it Yet, when finished, I sighed with relief that my duty of prayer was fulfilled for this moment and, hopefully,. at least a few more weeks After my father moved to America for a job promotion, dinner became strange. During this time we ate a lot of pizza and Chinese. We didn't talk much during dinner. came home for the holidays and dinner became lively and home-cooked again, although pleasant conversations were forced during our meals, because we had to “focus on each other.” times a year for long periods of work. He would come home, leave, stay, and sometimes he would eat with us and sometimes he wouldn't. t. I also started ignoring all of his attempts at conversation as my!