An Exclusive Dinner Invitation All Because of My Writing
For a few hours, I felt like a dignitary
A few Sundays ago, I received a phone call inviting me to dinner. My sister, Valerie, and her husband, Rick, have her adult kids and grands over about once a month, a family gathering exclusively for Valerie’s immediate family.
I’d never been invited to one of their get-togethers and I wouldn’t expect to be, but Valerie said that her daughter, Erica, “has been reading your stories. She feels like she knows you and she wants to see you and talk to you.
“Erica was hoping you’d join us for dinner.”
Minding her manners, she said, “Oh, and of course, Rick and I would love to have you too.”
It was 3:30 pm and dinner was at 5:30, about an hour’s drive away. Usually, nah, pass. I was settled in. I hadn’t planned to be out that evening. It was an hours’ drive away … but something in me knew that I had to go.
I didn’t want to disappoint Erica.
“Sure,” I said, almost surprising myself. “I’ll be there.”
And then I noticed feeling a little giddy. This was new. Punchiness over a dinner invitation, from a sister? Strange. I’d never in my life felt this way before.
I pulled myself together, showered, exfoliated, moisturized, applied lip color — the extent of my ritual beautification practice these days — and chose something a step above my usual evening wear of old t-shirt, sweats or yoga pants. I put on a bra. With a lilt in my step, I headed out the door.
As I drove, I realized that this invitation was because of my writing. And as I drove, I sat up straighter. I brought my shoulders back a little more. I assumed this newfound station: so, this is how it feels to be a dignitary.
At Valerie and Rick’s place, my nephew, Race, his wife, Cailie, their four lively little ones, along with Erica, Valerie and Rick.
We gathered around the kitchen island and feasted on antipasto: actually, a delicious guacamole, Rick’s recipe, and chips. Finger foods.
Lively kid chatter as this little guacamole demolishment team made the antipasto disappear.
In the dining area, tablecloths and cloth napkins, a vase filled with colorful spring bouquet. A lovely setting. There was a surprising elegance to this casual affair.
I don’t recall the conversation all that much. Erica is the only one who reads my stuff with any regularity. She asked about the inspiration for some of the stories, she mentioned things that struck her. And she encouraged the adults to take a look at my work.
In my family, there are those who host and serve, and there are those who show up as guests. I’d never been to Valerie’s place before as a guest, other than the day that she and Rick were married five years ago.
It was a delight to be waited on. It gave me a new appreciation for Rick, who had prepared and served the meal, then gathered the plates and cleaned up after. A role with which I was completely familiar.
It was new to me to be a guest of honor. It gave me a feeling I’d never had before. A new and delightful feeling.
I was invited because of my writing, because it had touched Erica.
Life has a way of keeping my ego in check. Erica became busier. She received a promotion at work and I’m not seeing her name or those welcome claps so much now.
The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.
Ah, but memories of having been a dignitary, however fleeting, will always be with me.
