At dinner on Wednesday, we did “best and worst,” a childhood tradition at my friend P’s household in Seattle, where you share the best part of your day and the worst part of your day. There were eight people at the table, and the majority of us went with some version of the best moment being the delight of being at that table, with those people.
I was almost the last to go, so I picked another moment in the day — sitting out on the back porch, on an absolutely beautiful spring morning, while R and M and Zelda all ate scrambled eggs that I’d just finished making. I was enjoying the weather, loving the company, and my dog was eating. What more could anyone ask for?
What more would be the Vietnamese food later; the sitting around the table at the house talking; the dinner; the walk down to Ballard with a conversational crowd; sitting outside eating ice cream and appreciating city energy; and then the later walk through Ballard with just my bouncy dog. Bouncy at least in part because she’d just eaten a full serving of expensive vanilla ice cream, but that’s okay.
It was a day of glorious moments. One of my favorites was when we got back from Vietnamese food. Pam had gotten home from work and when we walked in the door, she turned around, beamed at Rory, opened her arms and exclaimed, “My son!” They exchanged a huge hug and I mock-protested, “Hey! Mine!” But I am so glad and so grateful that they have that relationship, that he has another adult in his life who adores him, another place where… well, what’s that saying about home? That it’s the place where when you go there, they have to take you in? But I love knowing that R has this place where, when he comes here, they are delighted and welcoming and would love to take him in.