Light Hearted

Picture this: a newlywed couple at a bustling party, eyes locked, fingers intertwining over a single plate of food. That was Vani and me, years ago, soaking in the warmth of those early days of our marriage. Our shared plate wasn’t just a convenient way to eat; it was a symbol of our bond, an edible emblem of our desire to do everything together. Little did we know, the way we approached food would mirror the story of our lives, from the honeymoon phase to raising kids and all the seasons that came after.

The Honeymoon Phase: One Plate, Two Forks

In those early days, sharing a plate wasn’t just about romance; it was almost a ritual. We had this unspoken choreography, signaling with a glance or a slight nudge—“You take the last spring roll,” or “Save me that crispy piece of dosa.” It was our private language, a dance of love communicated through the art of eating together. The act of sharing food felt like a metaphor for our marriage: the thrill of putting each other first, always wanting the best for the other.

Enter: The Tiny Food Critics

Fast forward a few years, and our table for two became a lively table for more. With kids came a whole new chapter—our once-precious shared plate was replaced with high chairs, spilled sippy cups, and a battlefield of food preferences. Suddenly, our meals were no longer just about us; they became a juggling act of coaxing tiny, picky eaters into trying “just one bite.” Those early shared plates now had a new dimension—sometimes the plate was my own, but more often, it became a communal dish, shared with little hands that reached out to taste and grab whatever caught their eye.

And let’s be real—parents of toddlers know the drill: the never-ending negotiation over bites, the sly switch of food to avoid a tantrum, and the eternal hope that at least some of the food ends up in their tummies rather than smeared on the floor. It was chaotic, messy, but also a phase that brought us closer as we navigated the joys and frustrations of parenthood, one meal at a time.

The Buffet Years: Every Plate for Themselves

As our kids grew, so did their appetites and our approach to dining. Family dinners became feasts—buffet-style affairs where everyone piled their plates high, only to return for seconds, thirds, and “just one more tiny piece of dessert.” These were the golden years of indulgence, where we explored different cuisines and savored the joy of abundant choices. Whether at home or at a restaurant, the rule was simple: everyone gets what they want, and there’s always room for more.

But beyond the food, these meals were about the conversations, the laughter, and the shared experiences that made our family who we are. It was a time when the simple act of gathering around the table represented the richness of life, love, and connection.

The Unexpected Full Circle

Now, as I celebrated fifty-three candles on my last birthday cake, I couldn’t help but notice how we’ve come full circle. These days, our kids are more independent, and Vani and I often find ourselves back to those quieter dinners for two. But there’s a twist—now, when we share an entrée, it’s not just a romantic gesture. It’s partly practicality (a nod to our changing metabolisms and the wisdom of age) and partly nostalgia. We’ll split a salad, a medium pizza, or a Mediterranean bowl, knowing it’s just enough to satisfy us.

We’ve traded the crowded, single plate of our early days for separate plates, each holding portions that reflect both our evolving tastes and a lifetime of shared memories. The thrill of young love has matured into something deeper—a quiet contentment, the comfort of knowing what works for us.

Love, With a Side of Practicality

We began this journey sharing food out of love and infatuation. Decades later, we still share—not just because it’s a romantic gesture, but because it’s practical and fits our reality. We’ve learned that one dish is often enough for both of us, and ordering two can feel like more than we really need. It’s less about the symbolism now and more about a mix of comfort, practicality, and knowing what truly works for us. The shared meals of today might be more grounded in the wisdom of age, but they still reflect the deep connection and understanding we’ve built over time—love seasoned with a dash of practicality.

So here’s to love, life, and the evolving art of sharing a meal. May your plates be just full enough, your hearts always satisfied, and your journey through life seasoned with moments of connection that only grow richer with time.