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Dinner parties, I was ready for. Thought they’d be a part of my inevitable life that I would ace without effort. A suitable trade-off for other things I wouldn’t be in a position to even think about missing. Then they slipped off of the radar screen, their departure unmourned. 

Dinner parties as a freewheeling delight that I feel no pressure to produce to perfection or anything close to it – could not have prepared for those. 

What better way to end a day that went awry several times over and wants plenty more processing than with food and conversation and good friends? Just when I think I couldn’t possibly ask for more, it shows up on my doorstep and doesn’t stop there.

It all makes me miss currently-unattainable versions of such bliss. Doesn’t take away, though, from the feeling I keep having – that this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.