They came for dinner one night a week.
My daughter was still living in our home, but we rarely saw her because she spent all the time she wasn’t at work or school with her fiancé. A mad dash into the house in the morning to change her clothes and then she was gone.
“Think about coming to dinner one night a week, just so we can see you??” And that’s how it began.
Her older sister and our two granddaughters joined us at some point, invited because our son-in-law worked a second job many nights. Her younger brother left the nest and moved in with them shortly after they bought their house, and he came back, too. The oldest and his family was the last, forgotten somehow even though he lived only two blocks away.
The main course is texted earlier in the week. Mexican entrees were the norm, but now a rotation of specialty pizzas or burgers, or whatever else has caught the cook’s eye has ensued, and everyone contributes a dish. The “chef” has found ways to do less of the work which is just fine in a family where everyone knows their way around the kitchen. It can be loud and overwhelming, but it is us.
“Do you think we should suspend Friday night dinners?” Everything else in our world has been put on hold, why not this too?
“Ooh, those are pretty!” The pink tulips caught her eye when I lay the bags on the counter. She prepped them for the vase as I unpacked the few items we actually needed from the store. I saved the frozen haddock, the best, for last, and her busyness with the flowers halted for a moment.
“Yum!” She stretched out the word in a way that let me know she really meant it, and those eyes I can’t resist matched her growing smile.
“What?? You think this is for you?” I said, acting both innocent and devilish at the same time.
“Fish tacos!” she nearly sang.
It won’t be everybody, but even if this drags out until the summer, it won’t be that long.
Stay well and well fed.