Susan’s generosity was well spent as we bantered and laughed and then, yes, settled into recanting the tales from the 40 year old birthday party, or now wait, was that the 50 year birthday?
Marking the shared “ages-old” by the themes set for each party. All of them feel the same year after year yet that sameness grows on you like the taste of martinis in your 30’s — at first it’s a bit unappealing but then you get used to the taste and associate it with pleasure. After a while it becomes something you look forward to, to the point of definitely NOT missing it!
There is some unspoken agreement that, even as I write, won’t surface and form words. But it’s there and I’m in alignment. My body and my heart feel the need of the nutrients acquired in attending a gathering/party/Sunday night dinner. The obligation is to none other than our own souls in honor of a sense of continuity and shared journey’s.
Sometimes, I just sit there in Jani’s backyard, as the flies land on the veg dip and the kids get muddier, louder, hungrier, musing at how unimportant all the conversation is but how very important it feels to be there sharing in the discussions.
July brings cherry pie from Lynn. August brings peach cobbler or pie from Anne and Monica’s yard. New years is the neighborhood crab feed. One year we had Sunday dinners and each one, for a pace in time, had themes. “The Lemon” theme brought Avgolemono soup, lemon meringue pie and asparagus with lemon sauce. Jani’s birthday requires angel food cake, year after year! Julie is sure to have spent at least the whole day of, if not most of the day before, preparing her dish(es).
We need someplace, and good people, to share our meals with. They are barter for the stories we bring in the pockets of our hearts, ready to share if the timing is right and our basic needs are met.
Write Where I Am 
You set the most emotionally vibrant atmosphere in your writing, Em.