Dinner with Friends

Sometimes, it turns out the only thing I really needed after all was dinner with my friends. I went to a Mardi Gras party last night at my friends' house, and I had the best time I've had in a long while. We used to have a supper club where we went from house to house once a month, but with the stresses of jobs, night classes, and increasing numbers of children in our group, it sort of fell by the wayside. I knew I missed those monthly dinners, but until last night, I really didn't know just how much I was missing them.

I felt connected for the first time in a long time again. I found out things that were going on with people that I've known, literally, all my life, but I haven't seen continuously for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time in months. We ate good food, kept saying that we needed to go home as the hour got later and later, and the number one thing that everyone said over and over again was, we have to do this again. Why haven't we been doing this?

If nobody else can host the next one, I will do it. I will decrapify my house and figure out something to prepare, but I'll play hostess. It was too nice to have that communion with people who know me and with whom I actually have things in common. There were no social status measuring, no games, no ulterior motives, and no politics in play. I didn't have to play who do you know, what do you drink, or how much do you make. In my current world, that is too precious not to have it happen again.