A Table for One, Please

Yesterday evening, as usual, I was knee-deep in diaper duty, innocent giggles, and the eternal “What do I cook for dinner?” discussion echoing in my mind. Then, from the corner of my bedroom window, my eyes fell on my neighbor’s beautifully kept garden—lush, green, like a tiny, well-groomed forest.

There he was, his back turned to me, quietly tending to three types of meat sizzling on a barbecue grill. Right in the center of that calm oasis stood a table—neatly set with white china, a chilled beer, some fresh bread, and a roll of kitchen napkin. For a second, I thought he was hosting a little dinner party.

But no, dear reader. This spread wasn’t for guests—it was all for him.

Later that evening, I saw him sit down and enjoy his meal, alone. No phone. No distractions. Just him, his food, and the garden. My thoughts wandered—isn’t this self-love in its purest form?

I began asking myself: When was the last time I cooked something delicious just for myself? I’ve set the table beautifully for guests, for family, even for festive occasions. But for myself? Rarely.

What struck me most was the simple elegance of it all—the white china placed between a fork and spoon, the way he gave himself the attention and presence we often reserve only for others.

Isn’t it time we start treating ourselves the way we treat people we love?

A solo date. A planned meal. Carefully chosen ingredients. A favorite dish prepared with intention. Setting the table like royalty. Eating slowly, savouring not just the food, but the moment.

Maybe that’s the secret recipe—flavor, aroma, and mindful presence. A delicious mix for the soul.

What do you think?