A Dinner and Welcome that Felt Like Home

Going to a local restaurant that welcomed me as one of their own, when I needed that the most.

It was my birthday, and I felt like being around family. I felt lonely for some of what I had grown up with. I felt lonely for a place where I felt like I belonged. Where people look like me. Come from the same culture that I grew up in. Use gestures and their hands like me when they talk. 

Enter my first time trying a Sicilian restaurant that I heard about. I asked my friend, who wanted to take me out to dinner for my birthday, if we could try this place. So, we did.

I entered the place, saw a man standing behind the counter when I walked in. This man looked like he could be related to me. Looked like some family members of mine. My friend even said that we looked alike. 

I am first generation Italian American. Sicilian to be specific. My parents were both born in Sicily, met in the US (Boston) married there and then I was born. No sisters, no brothers. Only me. We had friends around who were Italian. When I was 10, we moved to Michigan to be closer to some relatives who were Sicilian. My father struggled his entire life to find family, given that his mother died when he was very young and his father was never around. 

Time moved on for me. In my rebellion and trying to separate myself from my very close (over-protective) family, I moved away from most things Sicilian. But it is still in me, and in my blood. I find myself coming home to that more and more as I continue this path of aging. 

Funny, isn’t it? How we try to get away from things when we are young that we then find ourselves coming home to later. So it is with me and my Sicilian heritage and roots. 

I was missing belonging to a family on this, my 71st birthday. My parents are both gone, and I don’t really feel connected to my family in Sicily, as I didn’t grow up with them. I also have lost most of the language, although I find that I can still speak a bit of it. 

I went up to this man at the counter, asked if he was one of the owners. He was. I told him that I was also Sicilian. And we connected. He was kind, attentive, and brought drinks to the table for my friend and me. He spoke a bit about his own family in Sicily. He recommended some specialties, which we tried. The entrees were amazing. A taste of my childhood. A taste of things past, but things that can still be stirred within. The taste of family. The taste of one of the tribes that I belong to. I may have denied this in the past, but I now come home, eager to taste it, feel it, be in it, be of it. Be held by it. Be welcomed by it. 

Dinner was wonderful. And of course we ordered the cannoli for dessert (what the photo shows above). My friend, unbeknownst to me, had told the staff that it was my birthday. My cannoli came with a candle and the Italian version of happy birthday sung to me by 5 of the staff. Applause all around. 

Such a treat in so many ways. 

This was exactly what I needed on this night. What I needed on this birthday. What I need to do more for myself as I age. Become my more authentic self, reclaim my roots, reclaim tribes where I feel at home. Reclaim all of me while I am still in this body, still on this earth. 

This wouldn’t have happened if I had not tuned into what I wanted and needed, what I was missing. If I had investigated where I might find some of what I need. If I had not spoken up about wanting this and asking a friend to share this experience with me. If I had not gone up to this man, a stranger who felt like family, and introduced myself to make myself feel more seen, heard, included, and welcomed. 

It is another lesson on this life path. It is important to go inside and ask ourselves what we might need and dare to feel the pain of what we might be missing. And then to see how we might be able to give that to ourselves and take the action needed to try and get that. To tune in and to speak up and to go for it. It might not work all the time. But it will certainly never happen if we don’t try. 

It is never too late to try and come home to ourselves. It is never too late to find where we might belong. Where we might be welcomed. Where we might by recognized and seen and heard. And given a kiss on the cheek, as this man did as we left. A kiss on the cheek that almost brought me to tears. 

A lovely dinner with family, served with a side of unexpected love, acceptance, and inclusion. 

I am finding my tribes. Yes, I am still often a loner who enjoys her solitude very much. Yet I also need my tribes. My tribe of Italians, of Sicilians. My tribe of artists (I have joined a local art association). My tribe of writers (as are all of you, dear Medium members). I can still be a loner, very independent and love my alone time. And I can still find where I belong, on this very human path, where we all need each other. Where we can all feel that sense of finally being welcomed home.