Memorable Moments at Dinner

A seemingly ordinary house key was jewelry to me while growing up in the 80‘s. I was the quintessential latch key kid. Some years the key was silver like when we lived on School street in Chicago, other years it was gold or rusty depending on whether our new landlord bothered to change the locks between tenants. Some years I wore it like a necklace on a pretty ribbon, other times I pinned it to my book bag or stuffed it deep into my jean pockets.

Everyday around 3:30pm I would trudge up the stairs of where ever we were living and slip my key into the door of the day. Sometimes I would imagine that the loud click of the dead bolt was a magical noise that would allow me entry into some unknown world. Any world other than an empty apartment.

Everyday was the same; come home, do my homework, watch cartoons and wait for my mom to get home from her job downtown. Being a single mom wasn't easy, but I always knew that mom would come home after work and make me dinner, that we would enjoy together.

A lot of nights it was tacos which were our favorite, or spaghetti which my mom had perfected over the years. Some nights it was just mac and cheese with hot dogs in it. Which was fine by me.

But the best nights were the ones when mom would call me before leaving work and tell me to meet her at the Fullerton train station. I always knew what that meant! Hot dogs, polish sausage and french fries from Demon Dogs which was tucked under the trestles of the train station.

We lived within walking distance of the Fullerton train station for many years and I prided myself in beating mom's train to the station on those special nights. I would stand near the turn stile and wait for the rumble of the train, then watch the legs of dozens of tired commuters come down the wooden stairs. Mom smiled when she saw me waiting.

The question was always the same on those nights: "Hot dog or Polish, kiddo?" Some nights we would take our sack of dogs to go, others we'd sit in front of the big glass windows on tall stools watching the world go by while we ate. There was never a lack of odd people to see with DePaul University across the street. Mom would tell me about her day and ask me how mine was. More than once she told a funny joke that made soda fly out my nose!

The walk home was never tedious for me, but I am sure my mom was tired of it after so many years. To her credit she never complained, instead she would grab my hand and swing our arms along as she hummed...I think she even skipped once. We enjoyed a lot of sunsets walking home along Fullerton Ave.

Of all my childhood memories, those dinners with mom are the most precious.