Sunday, August 12, 2012
At the beginning of the summer, some of our closest friends moved to the east coast. Several months ago we changed churches, after nearly 20 years. The combination has left me feeling somewhat adrift this summer, perhaps because I'm also not seeing the familiar faces of the other parents at school. It’s good to have people in your life with whom you share a history. Serendipitously, we just reconnected with friends with whom we’d lost contact for no good reason. Their kids happened to be enrolled in a sailing/kayaking camp with Abbott and Cal last month. In a follow-up email exchange, I had the urge to allow my sheepishness at my failure to be in touch get the better of me, but I didn’t.
We went to their house for pizza, their preference, to keep it simple in the wake of her recovering from a minor surgery. The four kids vanished immediately. As we had cocktails - they made us something they'd tried recently in New Orleans, equal parts lemon juice and gin with muddled sage and some sugar, over ice – we talked about her surgery. The surgery she’s recovering from is the final of several for reconstruction after breast cancer surgery, and I found myself discussing the particulars of my breast reconstruction and how I felt about it; a first, in mixed company. I found that I was completely comfortable doing so.
I brought a salad with grapes and bacon and curried cashews, and lettuce bought that morning at our neighborhood farmer's market. She’d made a salad of arugula, watermelon and goat cheese. They’d made a berry ice cream that happened to be perfect with the almond cake I brought for dessert. It was a northwest summer evening at its best. Hot enough of a day that the humidity-free air remained warm, as it grew dark.