Dinner for Ten

It is a wonderful seasoning of all enjoyments to think of those we love. (Molière)

In my last blog, “Bye Bye, Old Stove; Hello Possibilities,” I took a picture of a turkey in the early stage of baking. Most of that turkey has been sliced and frozen; my husband and I don’t require Sumo-wrestler portions. However, that bird will probably be only a memory in a matter of hours. I expected four guests for dinner. That number has now increased to eight.

Jay has made a quick run to the grocery store for more fresh fruit and vegetables. We plan to feast and celebrate the beauty of family.

As Jay and I peel and slice potatoes into my largest pot I think about my guests and gather positive thoughts about each individual—what could also be considered prayer. This attitude helps because my stove may be new, but it has limited space, not enough burners for everything I want to prepare.

I actually pause and consider options when panic would be my usual response. (Ask Jay. He has seen me in full-blown impending-disaster mode. I believe in positive attitude, but need to work at it, just like everyone else does.) However, this appliance and I are getting to know one another as friends. Stove is young with modern possibilities. My experience is old and varied. I’ve made enough mistakes to know what doesn’t work. Together we should be able to work out the logistics with the help of the microwave and the warm setting on the oven.

Then chaos reigns when I try to maneuver pans, bowls, plates, and hot stuff into a dining area the size of the average department-store dressing room stall. Granddaughter Kate helps—in between reading pages of her current book and attending to cousin Ella, sister Rebe, and new friend Dakota.

“What more do you want me to do, Grandma?” she asks. “After all, you do so much for us.”

I savor this moment as I watch her decide what color plastic forks the younger kids would like. This time isn’t really about food anyway. Mashed potatoes and even homemade brownies are only part of this day. In the future will anyone remember the menu anyway? Probably not. I’m hoping they will recall the laughter and the fun.

And that gives me the energy to provide the setting, in my job as chief cook and Grandmother.

Kate tells me that almost-four-year-old Dakota said that he was going to drive a garbage truck when he grows up. But it will hold marshmallows. Dakota is a very neat child, so I suspect this will be a very clean disposal vehicle. Perhaps this young man will help to clean-up a very nasty world and fill it with softness. He just doesn’t know it yet. I can’t see inside anyone’s mind, but his smile shows high-beam possibilities.

After dinner my daughter-in-law Sarah clears the table and fits the leftovers into suitable containers. I watch her efficiency and think about her amazing ability with mechanical devices. She had my new Cuisinart assembled in seconds, and she showed me how to use it in terms I could understand. Given my lack of understanding, that is quite a feat. And she did it without making me appear amazingly inadequate. Anything that needs assembly has never been my forte.

This house is really too small to hold three children and seven adults. But WE did it. I’m tempted to relay all of my family’s virtues here. Now. But, an overview is sufficient. More becomes like a grocery list.

This moment is a gift…And I celebrate it.