Nestled in the back corner of a wooded cul-de-sac is a brown- and white-sided house Grandma and Papa have called home for over 50 years. Inside is where my dad and his three brothers grew up. The rooms are like time capsules, stationed in a decades-old past. The walls are filled with their collection of art and knick-knacks from traveling.

But one room holds a special place in my heart — the dining room, the gathering place of food and family, celebration and memories. It isn’t a room my grandmother uses often, but it was one I was often privileged to use when my family and I came to town to visit.