And there a table with chips, dips, and mayonnaise based salads.
And there, another table, with eight inch paper plates, red forks and blue knives.
In the corner the requisite grill, with assorted sausages and ground meat patties sizzling.
In the adjacent corner a keg containing what I assume is cheap beer.
I assume because I do not partake.
No beer of any kind has crossed the threshold of my lips for almost three years.
Outside the yard, on the perimeter, there is a generously stocked bar.
I marvel that party goers do not flock to it and take more liberal advantage.
My thirst, when I indulged, was never so sedate.
All around are men with hats.
All around are women with bright and airy dresses.
Everywhere are smiles and heads thrown back with laughter drinking in the heat.
On a patch of bare concrete people hit a plastic ball with a stunted plastic bat.
And whoop and run the makeshift backpack bases.
Further out a volleyball is bumped and set and bumped again.
And even further on a gravel strewn empty lot where folks play a sweaty game of Ultimate.
The party proper is in shade,
with dappled sunlight gently bouncing off round cheeks and bared arms.
And more people arrive through the narrow pathway boarding the house.
And more people trickle out, wandering contentedly down the quiet alley.
And for a day and a night there is only this.
A fleeting eternity.
This warm bright camaraderie.
No comments:
Post a Comment