Stay for dinner, I said often in the early days, though much less frequently of late. I have been busy, preoccupied, blue.
Stay for dinner, why don’t you? There’s plenty to share and we’d love to have you, I said, peeling pears and mincing garlic, wondering if we’d actually have enough. I wish I were somehow more prepared.
Stay for dinner, please, won’t you? Belly up to the counter, join in. Over wine and water and juice boxes we can roll up our sleeves and match ingredients; thaw and adjust and season.
By the time we’re at the table, candles flickering, we’ll feel warm and just a bit squishy. And when someone finally gives up the spoon to sip straight from the bowl, we’ll wonder why we don’t do this more often, why we let other things get in the way.
Stay for dinner, I said, just yesterday. And to my delight, you said yes.
-Jennifer Balink, 2015
Lovely. And so true on every level. I’ve been lucky enough to vacation with a college friend in Europe several times and we always marvel how sadly rare it is as grownups to just get to hang out doing regular things (that is, nothing much other than cooking a meal and refilling glasses) for periods of time.
Thanks! As I’ve seen written more than once, no one ever looks back from the hospice bed regretting those do-nothing times spent with friends.
I love this kind of spontaneity- and very much appreciate it in my small island community on both sides- as the host or the gal who drops in and stays.
And blue. yes. I hadn’t realized it myself until I heard the birds singing this morning and smiled.
Ditto! Although the birds aren’t quite yet awake around here, I did finally wake up on Friday and feel a little bit better. February has been a bear of a month. Glad that it is over. Cheers to spring, soon, and to the gift of unplanned dinner with friends.
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