Hospitality was never something formally explained to us. You learnt it by watching. When someone arrived, another chair appeared. If the table was full, people moved closer. Food was divided again, plates were rearranged and somehow there was always enough. It did not matter whether the visit had been planned.
What mattered was that the person standing at the door was made to feel expected. That instinct, to make room before asking questions, is one of the strongest things we inherited. The table taught us that generosity is not measured by how much you have. It is measured by how willingly you share it.
The table is not important because of what is placed on it. It matters because of who is invited to sit around it. It is where we learnt to make room, to give generously and to care for people without making a performance of it. The food changes. The faces change. The table grows, empties and fills again. But the instinct remains. Sit down. Have something. Stay a little longer. That is the tradition.
