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crowded table

Imagine
holidays
by Hallmark –

color-drenched
celluloid.
Realism

is crowded:
just space for…
…everyone.

There’s a song by The Highwomen called “Crowded Table” that was on my mind this morning (we’re doing a double quartet choral version sometime later this Spring, and the chorus is an incredible earworm), and it seems appropriate, as yesterday the niecelet informed the family group text that in a couple of Sundays at brunch she’ll be introducing us all to Someone Important. My little sister is buying matching hoodies with her Someone Important (they are tooth-achingly sweet), and it really does seem like in the next year or so the family will grow by two. There’s already seventeen of us for dinner when we’re all there, so… time to actually buy extra seating instead of making do with the piano bench and various office chairs.

It’s so different from when I came home from college with Himself – they’re well into their thirties and not shaky twenty-year-olds cringing in advance of the inevitable judgment. They’re giving us a chance to be part of their lives, not hat-in-hand asking for… anything, really, but their due: being treated like grown women with their own business to mind.

Vive la différence. You go, girls.