During the merger of Binh Phuoc and Dong Nai provinces to form the new Dong Nai, I left Dong Xoai to work in Tran Bien. In those first days away from home, everything felt strange: from the roads and my job to the people around me. What I miss most is the family meal – where my parents, husband, and children were present, filled with laughter and simple yet flavorful dishes from my hometown. That meal didn't need to be fancy; just vegetable soup and braised fish, but it was always overflowing with love. Because the family meal is where we "share, connect, and soothe the weariness of life." Therefore, when I could no longer regularly sit at that table, I understood even more deeply the value of the word "Family."
Then, amidst the hustle and bustle of work, I gradually adapted to a new routine. Every day, around 11:30, we – my colleagues at the office – would gather in the small kitchen for lunch. The kitchen wasn't large, only about 20 square meters, but it was always bustling with laughter and conversation. Two tables were neatly arranged, each displaying four to five simple yet satisfying dishes. They weren't gourmet meals, but the meticulous preparation and cozy atmosphere made the meal special.
Initially, I just saw it as a normal meal to recharge after a morning's work. But gradually, I realized that lunch held a much greater significance. It was a rare moment in the day when people could put aside work, sit down together, chat, and share everyday stories. Sometimes it was a few funny anecdotes, sometimes small confessions, but all of it made the atmosphere feel close and friendly.
What touched me most was the care everyone showed each other. I usually eat vegetarian for about 10 days a month, and that has never been forgotten. The cook always prepares a separate, complete vegetarian meal for me, thoughtfully. It might just be a few stir-fried vegetables or tofu dishes, but it contains genuine care. It's these little things that make me feel loved and cared for like a member of the family.
Perhaps it is this sharing and caring that makes lunch at the office feel as warm as a real family meal. According to traditional beliefs, the meal is " a shared space, a place to strengthen bonds and preserve family values." And at my workplace, that's happening very naturally. Even though we're not blood relatives, we still treat each other with sincerity and closeness.
In the early days away from home, every time lunchtime came around, I felt a pang of sadness. Looking at the food on the table, I would remember my family, remember those warm family dinners. But then, as I gradually integrated with everyone, that longing lessened somewhat. It wasn't because I'd forgotten my family, but because I'd found another source of warmth – a "second family" at work. The stories and laughter during lunchtime helped me feel less lonely in my life away from home.
As time went by, that lunch break gradually became an indispensable part of my life. Every day, I looked forward to lunchtime so I could sit down with everyone. It wasn't just about eating; it was also a time to "recharge my mental energy," to continue working more effectively. On stressful days, just sitting at the table, listening to some cheerful stories, all the fatigue seemed to disappear.
What's special is that we unknowingly fell in love with those lunches. From a habit, it became a joy. From strangers, we became as close as family. Perhaps that's the power of meals – whether at home or in the workplace – the ability to connect people.
Through my own experiences, I've realized that a "family meal" doesn't always exist only within the immediate family. Anywhere, as long as there is care, sharing, and love, there will be a "true family meal." My lunch at the office is clear evidence of this.
Even so, deep down, family will always be the most sacred place. Meals with my parents remain irreplaceable memories. But thanks to those warm lunch breaks at work, I've learned to adapt and find joy in new circumstances. I understand that no matter where I go or what I do, as long as I cherish the people around me, I can still create warm moments like those of family.
Then, amidst the hustle and bustle of work, I gradually adapted to a new routine. Every day, around 11:30, we – my colleagues at the office – would gather in the small kitchen for lunch. The kitchen wasn't large, only about 20 square meters, but it was always bustling with laughter and conversation. Two tables were neatly arranged, each displaying four to five simple yet satisfying dishes. They weren't gourmet meals, but the meticulous preparation and cozy atmosphere made the meal special.
Initially, I just saw it as a normal meal to recharge after a morning's work. But gradually, I realized that lunch held a much greater significance. It was a rare moment in the day when people could put aside work, sit down together, chat, and share everyday stories. Sometimes it was a few funny anecdotes, sometimes small confessions, but all of it made the atmosphere feel close and friendly.
What touched me most was the care everyone showed each other. I usually eat vegetarian for about 10 days a month, and that has never been forgotten. The cook always prepares a separate, complete vegetarian meal for me, thoughtfully. It might just be a few stir-fried vegetables or tofu dishes, but it contains genuine care. It's these little things that make me feel loved and cared for like a member of the family.
Perhaps it is this sharing and caring that makes lunch at the office feel as warm as a real family meal. According to traditional beliefs, the meal is " a shared space, a place to strengthen bonds and preserve family values." And at my workplace, that's happening very naturally. Even though we're not blood relatives, we still treat each other with sincerity and closeness.
In the early days away from home, every time lunchtime came around, I felt a pang of sadness. Looking at the food on the table, I would remember my family, remember those warm family dinners. But then, as I gradually integrated with everyone, that longing lessened somewhat. It wasn't because I'd forgotten my family, but because I'd found another source of warmth – a "second family" at work. The stories and laughter during lunchtime helped me feel less lonely in my life away from home.
As time went by, that lunch break gradually became an indispensable part of my life. Every day, I looked forward to lunchtime so I could sit down with everyone. It wasn't just about eating; it was also a time to "recharge my mental energy," to continue working more effectively. On stressful days, just sitting at the table, listening to some cheerful stories, all the fatigue seemed to disappear.
What's special is that we unknowingly fell in love with those lunches. From a habit, it became a joy. From strangers, we became as close as family. Perhaps that's the power of meals – whether at home or in the workplace – the ability to connect people.
Through my own experiences, I've realized that a "family meal" doesn't always exist only within the immediate family. Anywhere, as long as there is care, sharing, and love, there will be a "true family meal." My lunch at the office is clear evidence of this.
Even so, deep down, family will always be the most sacred place. Meals with my parents remain irreplaceable memories. But thanks to those warm lunch breaks at work, I've learned to adapt and find joy in new circumstances. I understand that no matter where I go or what I do, as long as I cherish the people around me, I can still create warm moments like those of family.
Source: https://ngoaivu.dongnai.gov.vn/vi/news/van-hoa-xa-hoi/bua-com-am-ap-yeu-thuong-251.html
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