Thankful For Friends...

-



On Wednesday evening we had our first annual "Thankful for Friends" evening.  It was our way of celebrating the friendship we have sustained through the last 16 years of our lives.  The friends that have seen me through crushes, loves, loss, dreams, oopsies, minimum wage, careers and failed weight loss goals.  These are the friends I've known since middle school or freshman year of high school.  These are the friends who brought along their own families and significant others to delight us with their presence.  This was the first annual "Thankful for Friends".

I love the children.  I enjoy the sounds of stomping and wondering if the ceiling will give way to their Rock Band triumphs.  I revel in the look on their moms' faces as if to say "I am so sorry..." and they rush to call up the banister their bribes and warnings.  It makes me smile.  And I will say to them that it is all okay.  The things in my home are just possessions.  A memory forever etched in their minds is what is valuable.  How honored I am to be a part of their holiday.

I take comfort in seeing them truly make themselves at home.  Lord knows I won't serve them.  Not that I intend to be a bad host, but I can usually be found in a corner laughing and catching up with another.  And I will glance as they fish for utensils, pans, washcloths and dishes from the cupboards of this home we love.  This home we love to have our friends and their families in for this first annual "Thankful for Friends" day.

And one thing I love to do is make s'mores.  And I took such joy and care in passing along the hangers-turned-marshmallow-roasters to the children.  These children that I love so much.  And because I don't have children I was totally freaking out that one of them would catch fire sitting 'round the pit, or stab one another with a hot marshmallow, or a blanket would catch fire and then the neighbors's house would catch fire and....  In the back of my mind I made a mental note to keep a water bucket handy the next time.  But the mommies and daddies just knew that wouldn't happen and so they carried on in their laughs and conversations while I passed along crackers and chocolates, preparing for a toasted child and fearing their mommy would no longer want to be my friend after that.

My husband and the gents were here and there.  I could hear their deep voices, but... like a mother that hears the cries of her children, I could hear the call of hot gossip amongst my girlfriends.  And I would yell "WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!!" while grabbing a bottle of chardonnay and dashing to huddle amongst them. 

And some stayed up well past our adult bedtime.  I crashed by 1:30 and left my guests to their own devices.  They know where the blankets and pillows are.  I haven't the slightest clue what time my wonderful husband came to slumber beside me.  He was enjoying those last hours of moonlight amongst these friends that we are so Thankful for. And we woke to the sounds of more Rock Band and what seem to be genetically enhanced children with their unbelievable amounts of energy.  These children I adore. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Dear Bobby"

-
Image
"Dear Bobby, I love you. I always look forward to when my husband leaves for work, and you sneak into bed with me. Sometimes, you will wake me up, but usually, you just lie there next to me waiting for my eyes to open." Bobby. You are a cat. But you are the cat of all cats. Unliked some others whose names I will not mention.... you like being a cat. You are my original Obi Kenobi... But you don't like your name and insist I call you "Bobby" or "Bob". You are my predator. You can catch anything- including a rabbit almost twice your size. I remember the time you brought a baby possum into our home. I had just awakened and sleepily headed to use the bathroom when, peering from inside the toilet, was a little possum begging to be released. You cheeky bastard, Bobby. That poor possum. I scolded you and you just turned the other whisker, as if to say "look lady... I am a cat, that's how I do...." The other cats beg for forgiveness when ...
Read More

The Good Dancer: A Dating Story

-
Image
I once dated a really good dancer. That wasn't his only strength. In truth, he was one of thee absolute best dudes I ever made out with.  He was super funny, smart and we clicked right away. But what struck me as odd was that, for the first time before and since, his good dancing skills didn't turn me off.  (For some reason, a man with too much swagger on the floor has always confused and frightened me a little.)  Oh, and I also don't like when they are so involved in their dancing that they forget you are on the floor with them.  Oh, and when they A. crowd you or B. use you as a prop.  Oh, and when they sing along to songs by female artists.  If you know all the lyrics to "I'm a Slave for You", that's both impressive and embarrassing. (I really did have strange deal-breakers with men...) So here was the first guy who I enjoyed dancing with that was actually a really good dancer.  He didn't crowd.  He didn't sweat profusely.  H...
Read More

Degree

-
Image
It was on Friday night. We laughed a lot, perhaps made delirious by the sweet smell of men that were familiar-yet-elusive and desirable. It could have been the wine,  it could have been the great company of old friends and conversations and shared opinions with other women. I disagreed with Ariel more than once, though... "Too sweet" or.... "smells like a jelly bean...." The ones I couldn't put down were the ones that smelled like a man's deodorant, hidden among 75+ samples that scattered in baskets around the coffee table. There we sat around a table full of scents as we sampled the fragrances from a friend's Scentsy collection, eager to fill out our order forms for the smells that would soon promise to envelop our homes. I opted for the "Iced Pine" option, which always reminds me of the home I have not yet lived in and lingered around the fragrances that smelled of citrus and orange peels.  The idea of the smell of "Orange...
Read More