Last week, I went out to dinner with a good friend of mine. We often enjoy dinners out in Boston, and we usually practice some sort of overindulgence when together: whether it be the P.F. Chang's Meal For Two, an entire 8-inch pan of apple crisp, or several bottles of wine. Or some combination of the above.
In my opinion, this tendency to overindulge when together signifies some level of comfort with one another. You can't shovel ice cream down the hatch in front of just anyone. It requires some bond, centered on love for one another ... and not without a love for food, drink, and laughter.
Our dinners are never short on any of those three ingredients. As far as laughter is concerned, the focal point, of course, is usually recent failures and antics we have experienced or witnessed.
"So, yesterday at work," she said, reaching for the bottle of Chardonnay, "I did the dumbest thing." This friend of mine is a fantastic story-teller, so I wiggled in my chair, eyes on her, eagerly awaiting her words.
"I was just sitting at my desk, checking my work e-mail." She shrugged, wine bottle in hand, offering an anticipatory, What the hell was I thinking? Excited to be set up for some laughter, I invested myself in her story. I even followed her movement with my eyes, ending at the corked wine bottle in her hand.
She continued her story.
As she extended the wine bottle towards her glass, I was delighted that a punchline was already approaching -- and somehow words had deemed themselves unnecessary.
I wiggled a bit more in my chair, silently watching my friend create a new blooper to tell and re-tell, my smirk about to burst.
With a flip of her wrist, the glass remained empty.
She looked at me. I unapolagetically returned her gaze and nodded at the cork. Our laughter filled the restaurant.
Footprints Of God Poem
11 months ago
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