If you have been around this blockchain for as long as I have, you'll know that The Husband and I would host dinners in our home. Every Sunday. Also, in the years before we did that, virtually every Easter we'd gather a bunch of friends in the garden. Although everyone else's mantra that
It always rains at Easter!
would deter others, it never deterred us. And yes, there may have been rain over that weekend, but I cannot recollect one such Sunday when the weather gods didn't bless us.
So, when a friend of ours announced that she'd be visiting that weekend and then more importantly, that her move to the village would be before year end, I took a deep breath and donned the big girl panties and decided to "do" one of our traditions, solo.
Truth be told, I was delighted that D was the reason: she was also the "reason" for one of first dinner parties that The Husband and I ever through. Also, in just over a week, it will be a year since The Husband left the village for the hospital. Never to come home.
It's also nearly a year since he indulged in one of his most favourite things: lighting a fire and cooking meat over that fire. In the braai room he built and which was our haven from the wind and weather. Literally.
It's been a long time since the dining room table was opened to its full extent and I contemplated its "blank canvass".
The garden that The Husband worked so hard to turn into a shady space - just for this type of event - has really begun to recover from the drought and more to the point, my neglect over the last year. With a little furniture rearrangement it was the perfect setting.
The Husband would have loved this. I missed him. D missed him and her highly rated braai skills were homage to a man we both loved in different ways.
McGregor painted a sunset like only she can paint. And when she did, The Husband would always hoick me out to share it with him. I miss that. All the time.
It was wonderful to share a meal and conversation, remember Tom and introduce D to a bunch of "my peeps" that she now feels are also part of "her" tribe.
The Husband would have been so happy.
As for me, I shed lots of tears as I am, now. His presence is one thing. His living presence another. I miss that.
Another milestone hurdled. Many more to go. I am sure.
Until next time
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa
Photo: Selma
Post script
If this post might seem familiar, it's because I'm still re-vamping old recipes. As I do this, I am adding them in a file format that you can download and print. If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine....?
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Original artwork: @artywink
I create graphics using partly my own photographs as well as images available freely available on @hive.blog and Canva.