Sunday, May 30, 2010

How a Day Stays

Spray the grease stains on my two
red table cloths while remembering
he sat just there and laughed with his
belly full of happiness, passing the
bread basket warm.

Breaking bread together is much
better with butter on it. Lifting
a baby's cheek to get at the sweet
cream  and honey in her neck is tastier
even than butter on bread.

Lemon wedge water glass toasts
will do when sending her off
in other's care. They'll look after
her  well; she's easy like a big dollop
of pudding in crust.

Bones clack on plate after sucking the
the goodness gone. Eggs bedeviled,
orphaned, forgotten, left out in the cold.
Bowls left swimming with white juice
 puddles from green slaw gone.

Napkins with wrinkled wings and broken backs
lay crumpled and limp now. They absorbed the
afternoon like I did. Crisp traded for useful.
All departing drips from lips, floor and laps
get wadded up, thrown now into yesterday.

We had about 25 friends over today for a classic All American BBQ. Five thick racks of dry rubbed ribs soaked overnight with peppers and onions. Grilled asparagus, sweet potatoes, fingerlings, zucchini and mushrooms. Coleslaw. Hot sourdough buns.

Two platters of deviled eggs were forgotten in the fridge. Woops. Strawberry shortcake juxtaposed with brownies for the base. And coffee. Of course, coffee.

We were saying good by to Sarah and her children as they move to PA. It's on the other side of the nation and feels a bit final.  We wished her well with hopes to visit someday. She will be missed.

I am most happy when the house is packed. Food and good conversation flows along with affection and mouth watering aromas. Nothing can take those away even when the day is used up and the dishes put away. No one can put the day in the trash like the napkins. The day stays with the pictures taken; the kind of pictures forever engraved inside.

Feeding a crowd comes easy to me for some reason. One of them was sitting across the room from me. I watched Loverby as he passed the hot bread. He was laughing so hard the basket wobbled a bit. It was good. All of it. His tandem help is what makes it easy. His enjoyment makes it worth it.
Today was just right, like the baby bear's porridge.


M.L. Gallagher said...

I don't have to 'wish' I was there, Kathleen. I was there in your poem and writings.


and I agree -- happiest when the house is full of people being well entertained.

Corinne said...

Sounds like a delicious afternoon... and why is it that the deviled eggs are always left in the fridge?? :)

Susan said...

Your descriptive words helped me imagine the setting to a 'T', complete with Craig's happiness. Precious times.

Bree said...

I'm glad you put this in writing. I will remind you to review it often. Often as in, when you don't feel like you can muster the energy to pull it off, or when you think, once again, that no one will show up. God gives you the energy and He ALWAYS shows up, and it's FOREVER marvelous when you choose to host! I love you and yesterday was wonderful!

Maureen said...

Feast of friendship and love. Nothing's better (though I do have to put in a good word for hot-from-the-oven bread).

Ann Kroeker said...

You know how to party, how to visit, how to laugh and play and eat and celebrate life!

Thanks for inviting us to share in the joy of your party!