I sit, gazing towards the lake, watching the sun duck behind the Appalachian Mountains and get a whiff of dinner cooking. As I begin to walk back inside, I see my family gathered around the dinner table playing a game of left-right-center.

Once dinner is ready, my aunt puts it out as a buffet. She yells“Middagen er klar” (dinner is ready), and everyone runs. I grab my plate, get bread and salad and then go to the main meal. I smell the freshly cooked cod, and the sweet potatoes. I dig in, grabbing as much as I can on the first go, because I know the likelihood of seconds is low.

After grabbing my food, I continue back outside and sit at a picnic table by the lake with my cousins, who are kicking a soccer ball around.

“Joe, you know dinner is ready right?”

“No? Isn’t tonight bacalao?”

My cousins instantly sprint inside to get some.

Once they return, we eat. No one talks until their food is done.

As usual, about halfway through dinner, more of my relatives show up. They usually don’t eat with us, but on tonight's dinner night they decided to grabbed a plate.

“Karen, can you make this for us every night?”

The cod that melts in your mouth, and the soft potatoes make for a filling meal, one that leaves everyone wanting more.

At the end of dinner, I sit with my cousins, gazing towards the lake, watching the moon come up from behind the Appalachian Mountains, with a full stomach, next to the warm campfire.