CELEBRATIONS

When they were wild

When they were not yet human

When they could have been anything,

I was on the other side ready with milk to lure

them,

And their father, too, the name like a net in his 

hands.

- Louise Erdrich, Birth

The gift was a real peacock feather hairclip/side hat showcasing its green glittered tail with eyes, a beauty accessory for church service to know the matriarch is in the house in yellow Sunday dress, because her day has come. And the brunch was to be spectacular: sangria champagne to toast; French-inspired food focused on heavy foliage tomato-cilantro stews with side of lentil rice; mountain apple and spinach salad; rye seeded flat bread; rum cake blueberry compote molten at center; toasted pecans, pickled red pearl onions from Peru for aperitifs' hors d'oeuvre; the family finally gathered under the sun. In a cook's life, these moments are what he lives for, commemorating long histories of friendship and good times and feeding them well. Mom would've been proud of these celebrations he serves.

The surrogate nephew took a moving video of the blowing of the candles around the table while the singing burst, and those who couldn't be there called in on phone in sync. He was blessed at the church in the morning by the priest, and didn't expect this. Before the celebrations begun, the flute glasses where frosted in the freezer and the mint leaves were picked. He ironed his white shorts and floral shirt. Brewed plantation-style coffee. He arranged flowers in vases of blue-violet and white. He felt the kitchen's pulse. 

You have guests over and in a blink of an eye visits leave, and with memories of them will next year save you a date. Our names have endured, and our journeys come full circle there in reunion. We clean up together, and then pack a luggage for there is just one more night. Names, our names, have grown of age like siblings. We embrace. We wave. Friends are transformations and fill the void. And will never forget you.