Before the Party

Sunday morning and the house is hushed, waiting for the party to begin. It's been raining and snowing all night, so the morning dawned through gray. The rooms are in shadow with a peacefulness that I won't feel all day long. Sunday is our busiest day as people have made our brunch a family tradition. The tradition for me, is the special, homey meals my grandmothers would make on Sundays. Everyone worked like crazy all week, Saturday was a work day of sorts too---mowing lawns, fixing things, catching up, kids playing sports in all directions over town. Our Sunday brunches now, are my weekly tribute to those memories.

As the dining rooms rest in anticipation, the kitchen is screaming busy with meyer lemon coffee cake, tamales, sweet red pepper salsa, the slicing of thorny pineapples that will drip sweet and surprising on every plate, chipotle cheddar grits. I look from the bright light of the kitchen, over the dark tables gleaming out there and picture the scenes of the day...babies throwing food and being soothed with that pineapple...surly teenagers trying to pretend that they hate every bite...young couples in love, elderly couples who don't need to speak much, they know each other so well. There's the guy who doesn't like eggs, but eats them here in some form, week after week. There's the guy who comes with his Kindle, and eats whatever we are having, without question. There's the family with very unruly children, who snatch bites between outbursts and smile wearily and apologetically when they catch someone's eye. There's the little girl who is upset if some kid already has the booster seat she likes.

It's going to be noisy here today, and the house is quietly ready.