There is something about being at a long table occupied by one’s closest friends. The chatter, the cross-talk, the inside jokes that have gone on for years, the sharing of food and drink and the swapping of babies. There is something very special about all being friends and not just friends + mandatory spouses. And tonight, as I ate my meal basking in warmth, familiarity and old-shoe comfort, watched the Boy walk around with my best friend’s son and entertain him without a thought to his own dinner, held another friend’s 14-month-old hell bent on bumping heads with me and cackling, sang along with the guitarist who played at our table, talked of travel plans and life plans and guitar-strumming plans for tomorrow night, I felt blessed. And immensely grateful. And painfully aware that I was consciously embossing this evening in my memory, knowing it may not always be this way.
Tonight, I had what people around the world wish for. Roots, love and hope for tomorrow. A noisy evening not loud enough to drown out the voice that said “Thank you, Lord. I will carry a snapshot of this evening wherever life may take me and know I am not alone.”