A quiet table

I had grand plans. I've lived at No41 for over a year now and I'm ashamed to say I still don't know my neighbors very well. I'm grateful for the quiet apartment community I live in. But the quiet is paired with a reserved quality to interactions on the sidewalks and walkways. I value opportunities to have people around my table and hear their stories, what inspires them and what makes them ache. So to not know the people I share a laundry room with seems counterintuitive. This Christmas was going to be different. An open house I thought! Take a break from holiday shopping and come share a plate of pasta at No41. It was a perfect opportunity. People expect that kind of thing at Christmas. Come January and I might get weird looks at such an invitation.

December has a way of altering plans. "It's going around" came around to me just days before Christmas. I'm a terrible sick person. No really. This independent woman turns into a girl who wants her mommy to come make her headache go away and her tummy feel better. I find myself wondering how I will ever be a capable mother if I can't handle being sick by myself. Needless to say I took off my apron and exchanged it for fuzzy socks and a few doses of DayQuil.

Second Dinner

 

One very old friend (years known, not age) and one entirely new friend. A weeknight at the table with turkey bacon BLTs and butternut squash soup. The conversation began typically enough with things girls talk about when they're together. After bouncing around to topics including taste in men, shape of eyebrows, and our penchant to be theatrical in our cars the way people sing in their showers, we began delving into issues most people hash out on their therapists' couches. It was one of those unique conversations that was equal parts honesty and grace, laughter and uncomfortable recognitions. Around 11:30pm, we went back for a "second dinner" of leftover turkey bacon and sweet potato corn chips, determined to bring our issues in for a landing around midnight.  

I've had lots of vulnerable conversations with friends. This one wasn't vulnerable to be vulnerable. It wasn't about relating and commiserating. It was about looking for the "why" and challenging each other to be brave in the reality of that "why".

Notes for future: Don't put clocks in the living room/dining room - they can ruin rare nights like this. How does the saying go? I'll sleep when I'm dead? The answer to "More tea?" is always yes.