Last light touches the pink petunias in the window box. We hold hands. It’s dinnertime. We ready for our ritual feast with a quick scan of the table. Ketchup…Check. A1 sauce…Check. Steak knives…Check.
Each night we choose our blessing style, a song, take-turns spoken grace or silence. Tonight we choose a song. They sing low. I sing high. We bless the sunshine and the rain, the green beans and the french fries, the many hands that picked our vegetables, the earth that held them, the cow we grilled, the journey of the folks who brought our food to the grocery.
The dogs lay on the deck in a sunset slice. We place napkins in our laps.
“Do you know what would make my life complete?” our 13-year-old son asks.
My husband peeps over his glasses. My green bean fork u-turns and rests on my plate.
“What would that be?” I ask.
“A chimp with buck teeth,” he answers.
I hear a bird symphony. My eyes blink. Four eyebrows raise. I forget about my green beans.
“So Mom… what would make your life complete? he asks.
I experience a very long moment. The answer comes. “World peace,” I say.
“An end to hunger,” his father says.
“Hmm…good answers,” he pipes.
“Oh and one more thing,” he adds. “I also need a robotic ant.”
Laugh lines deepen. Knives and forks point to three o’clock. The dogs race to discover leftover treasures in the summer grass.
SHOW HIDE 5 comments