dinner party

She told me right up front that it had been that kind of day. The kind of day when there seemed to be a hitch in every plan. Seams stitched and torn out. Meat not quite thawed. But we just laughed about it and carried on with just being together.
Soon,the other half of the gathering arrived and the giggling and screeching began... along with some doorbell ringing, and a couple little noses pressed to the glass. There was bowling and birthday cards, chips & salsa and cheetos. But most of all, there was time. To visit. To play. To relax. Sitting out on the dock, we were in awe of the spring day. Beautiful and breathtaking, the sunlight shimmering along the surface of the canal.
When dinner was finally ready, there was an apologetic shout of no bread, and a wish that the meat had come out five degrees earlier. And not since the last time someone served me meatloaf had anyone seen such a face on a sweet little girl. But with a little ranch dressing, the scowl disappeared. There was a too-late thought about gravy, and we served up scalloped potatoes... which we referred to as macaroni and cheese, lest the scowl return with a vengeance. But... none of it was all that important. We sat and ate and talked... and then we laughed a little more.
Because when all is said and done, it just doesn't matter what is on the table. What matters is who is sitting around it. I love family dinners.