One Evening

Last night’s happiness and gratitude have lingered into today.

Honestly, a cooler of beer

and water is all this crew really needs. But my two brothers’ significant others created something much more. 

A beautiful backyard beneath the shade of old, tall trees. Fresh flowers from the garden on every table. Great music that made it easy to get up and dance without missing a beat of conversation. Homemade onion dip (soooo good!) and homemade potato chips. Slow-cooked barbecue chicken. Sweet New Jersey corn brought by one brother. Maine lobster brought by me.

None of those things, by themselves, explain why I woke up this morning still carrying the feeling.

Together, they wrapped six siblings in care.

Our annual family picnic was today, a tradition my great-grandparents began when they were raising young children. As a child, I loved it. Three-legged races, playing softball or kickball with cousins and aunts and uncles, getting dirty and sweaty.

Today it’s something different.

While I enjoy connecting with my cousins, I’m grateful this picnic gives my siblings and me a reason to congregate in Connecticut. 

It’s my siblings I long to reconnect with.

The six of us.

The people who shared the same parents. 

Same house.

Same history.

Same stories. 

When my mother was nearing the end of her journey with Parkinson’s disease, she quietly admitted to me she had a worry.

She was afraid that after she was gone, her children would stop getting together.

Without hesitation, I assured her that wouldn’t happen. At the time, it seemed ridiculous to even think.

Now I understand why she worried.

It isn’t that we don’t want to be together.

After she died, we did try to meet for a week before the family picnic. Then it became three days. Then two. Then one.

It was easier to get together for a longer period of time when my parents were alive.

This year, it was one evening.

Sitting beneath those old trees last night, I realized something I hadn’t expected:

This one evening was enough. 

Maybe that’s why the happiness and gratitude lingered into today.

Not only because of the freshly picked flowers from the garden. 

Or the homemade onion dip and chips.

Or the music.

Or the delicious dinner.

It was because, for one evening, two women who love us created a space where six brothers and sisters could simply come home to one another.

Mother approved.