Saturday, February 20, 2016

strumming our song

Our busy day continued on into the night. At 7pm we went to the neighbors house for a going away party for Glen and Kathy, neighbors directly across the creek from us. We were the first to arrive, our footsteps well-defined on the newly fallen snow powdering the front steps. Safely inside, our boots took head-of-the-line place on the long mat put down for visiting footwear.

Over the next half hour, the rest of the guests arrived at Barry and Barb's welcoming home. Everyone gathered in the kitchen in a tight crush of laughter and conversation. What is it with the kitchen that draws us all in? Partway into the night there was a rush into the dining room as the table was laden with snacks. We brought meatballs in a garlic sauce, others brought cheese balls, spinach dip, tortilla rolls, eggrolls, and the list goes on. No one was going home hungry.

A guitar was brought out and Glen started to strum. People drifted into the living room, gathering around an imagined fire, adding their voices to the songs. Even Carm, who never sings no matter what, sung a few words. What I thought was so lovely, so magical, was how no one seemed to care if you sung out of tune or messed up the words. There was no judgement, there was only the joy of being together, bittersweet knowing that Glen and Kathy would be leaving.

We tore ourselves away at midnight, knowing that the festivities would go farther into the night. It has been a quiet day here today, even the dogs are tired from keeping watch so late.

Trailer for sale or rent, rooms to let, fifty cents.
No phone, no pool, no pets, I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah, but, two hours of pushin' broom
Buys an eight by twelve four-bit room
I'm a man of means by no means, king of the road.

~Roger Miller