Suddenly, Somehow, Wonderfully

Sometimes, that’s how life is, haphazard and untamed, a cowlick that won’t be slicked. There’s work and travel, then travel again, and spring’s come and weeds have, too, and the guys are home, then they’re gone, and you’re not sure when you last stepped foot in a grocery store, let alone swept and mopped your floors. That’s precisely when you pick up the phone and say to your friend, Come tomorrow for lunch, then hope there’s something in the house to serve. 

You find just enough greens in the enameled bin in the fridge, and a handful of mini peppers rolling around in the crisper drawer. There’s a shave of red onion in a jar on the shelf and a hunk of feta in its wrapper in the door. In the pantry, you find red kidney beans, roasted sunflower seeds, and a box of wheat crackers. Then you remember that it’s spring, and among the weeds in the garden are fresh chives and viola blossoms. In the fruit basket is a slightly shriveled lemon for slicing into a carafe of cold water.

And, suddenly, somehow, wonderfully, there’s a salad lunch for two.

For sharing, for caring, for connecting. For real.

We all know about this tendency for time to get away. For good intentions and good ideas and good friendships to go undone because time’s being skittish and won’t be nailed down. For saying to your friend, let’s get together soon, then seeing months go by and soon becomes not soon at all. 

My advice when things are imperfect, cluttered, and real in your life? Especially when time (and probably your house) is all askew? Pick up your phone, invite her over for lunch, serve whatever you can find.