The Sunday Dinner Rule

Every Sunday, my grandmother cooks dinner for our family, and she insists that everyone arrives by six o'clock.

My father, who is always busy with work, often comes late, which makes her upset.

Last week, he arrived at seven, carrying a new phone that he had bought for her.

She looked at it for a moment, then placed it on the table without a word.

During dinner, she told us stories about her childhood, when families had no phones and talked for hours.

My father listened quietly, and I could see that he felt a little guilty.

After the meal, he asked her to teach him how to make her famous soup, and she smiled for the first time that evening.

Now, he leaves his phone in the car before he rings the doorbell, and she always saves him the best piece of chicken.

This small change has made our Sundays much happier.

Last month, my father even left his phone at home all weekend and helped with the cooking.

My grandmother says that the best music in the world is the sound of family talking together.

I think she is right, and I hope we keep this tradition for many years.