Lunch today was spread out on the long barn-door table Ben built in the vineyard so that we could eat outside without being relegated to the rather dull concrete patio at the bottom of the steps. I much prefer to sit out in the lower yard, surrounded by grapevines. It was so warm in the sun and so cold in the shade, I kept my soft angora wrap handy to pull up over my shoulders as the shadows shifted over me.
Christian finally drew Bunny Duty this year (see previous years here and here). For some reason he's never had his name pulled, and after a decade it became a bit of an inside joke and finally, on this final year of egg hunts for the children, he had the honor of dressing up in his morning suit (coattails and all) and the giant creepy bunny head, and he played it hilariously, zipping and zagging and being caught and escaping and the children shrieked and almost for a moment forgot how cool they are, and how old they are now, the wonder years diminishing in favor of being sure that everyone knows that they know that the Easter bunny is usually one of the boys.
I hope these years are short-lived and they find joy in the magic again sooner rather than later, but since I've been exposed as Santa Claus and a part-time tooth fairy, it stood to reason that the Easter Bunny would not be far behind.
Of course, had he not been so readily observable this year, we might have stretched it a little further. But that's it. Next year Henry will be on the verge of thirteen instead of twelve and they would rather have iTunes gift cards than chocolate eggs, and they would rather sleep until ten on a sunny Sunday morning than get dressed at the crack of dawn to go hunt treats out in the damp cool grass.
I thought about this as I put together the first outdoor lunch of this year. Devilled eggs. Coleslaw. Everything bread. Fruit salad. Roast beef and ham. Cheese. Homemade salsa and chips. Cinnamon buns and iced tea.
I don't have to enlist anyone to help carry dishes out to the table. They come looking for sustenance, for companionship. For family routines. I straighten Ben's tie and tuck PJ's collar back down. I ask Henry to go wash his hands (again) and I sent one more message to Caleb to find out if he is coming or not (he is) and then I check through the window beside the front door to see if Sam is here yet (he isn't). I debate calling him when I see Matt's car drive down around the fountain. Good.
I remind Andrew of the app that he asked me about earlier (Kitcam, so awesome) and I watch Duncan for a few minutes to see if he's got his flask or not (he doesn't). Dalton is still asleep and will eat later (no surprise there). Lochlan is juggling cans of cheap beer on the grass, stopping when he sees Andrew come down the steps, then offering him one as if it isn't a loaded weapon. Andrew thanks him for the cold beverage and then pretends to open it just as Loch loses control of his poker face. Andrew's been here a long time and he's aware of Lochlan's tricks so he aims the top at Loch before pulling the tab, howling with laughter as Lochlan jogs around the yard in a big circle, just out of reach of the spray of foam.
Ben calls everyone to the table. Once everyone is seated and settled, Sam stands up and says grace. It's beautiful. Like the table. The yard. This life. These people. Matt leans back in his chair and watches Sam with a quiet smile on his face. Ben rubs his thumb up and down the back of my neck as I lean against him, enjoying the tiny tides of goosebumps on my arms as they rise and fall. Lochlan faces the head of the table to listen to Sam but his arm is stretched back, holding my hand. Ruth interrupts to point out there's a ladybug on the edge of the bowl and so she won't be having anything the bugs have touched and Caleb ignores her declarations, serving her a nice big spoonful of potato salad anyway. She dutifully thanks him with the worst look on her face ever. Lochlan watches her across the table as he pours tea for everyone. They are talking without saying anything. It's a slow but wonderful process and she works hard to bend her mouth into an agreeably pleasant expression. We hold up our glasses in a long-established pecking order. Ladies first, followed by the youngest all the way to the oldest.
Caleb finally holds out his glass and Lochlan takes it and fills it, passing it back. Caleb smiles and thanks him and Lochlan looks at the sun and then says he's sorry but there could be a ladybug in that glass of tea. Cue Ruth loudly proclaiming she's not going to drink any ice tea either and I say her name quietly because most of the time that's all it takes. Lochlan keeps going, digging at Caleb so I say his name too. He stops. Mercifully.
Everyone else settles down to the business of eating Easter lunch, a new sort of tradition we've developed in the past three years that far eclipses our previous traditions or past lives.
As the number of plates pushed away continues to grow along with voices rising around the table, Lochlan finally finishes his second helping. He winks at me.
That night. You remember so many small things.
It was a pivotal moment in your life.
Every moment you're in my life is pivotal, Bridge.
Not sure whether that's a compliment or an insult, Loch.
It's a compliment, Idiot. That was an insult.
I thwack my fork against his forehead and he scowls and rubs the space between his eyes. The sun goes behind a cloud again and I reach for my wrap but Ben is already pulling it up around my pale shoulders. He kisses the closest bone and thanks me for lunch, telling me it was good. That he loves these kinds of days, that everything is a resurrection here sometimes. I lean my head against Ben's chest for a minute. He's right.
Sam watches us. He nods enthusiastically at Ben. He's let his hair grow and now he has a wavy, willful cap of curls that suits him perfectly. He has kept an eye on the time and now he stands to the tune of the collective groan rising up from at least half the table. We're all too stuffed, too warm and too tired to move, but he has one more service today and so he has to get back to the church. Henry and Caleb have plans with an Xbox and Ruth wants to load up her phone with music so Loch will be busy for hours and I figure by the time I get all of this cleaned up with PJ and Ben's help again it will be time to start supper.
If I've learned anything at big holiday dinners with these guys is that it doesn't matter how late I delay a meal, how many servings they have during the meal, or how insistent they are that they're going to be full for days, weeks even, no one has ever failed to show up for the next meal.
Happy Easter.
