Monday, November 10, 2008
133: There was laughter.
Last night, we had a wine tasting party; at nine, half the guests left for the chilly return to the Twin Cities (flecks of snowing wending down in the night). The tub held floating half-filled bottles of wine, clinking against ice slivers. We played Apples to Apples; my sides sore the next morning from so much laughter. Each month should contain small celebrations like this: first trips to the butcher, apple cranberry stuffing, home baked bread, stories upon stories. Each life should be filled with this: the sounds of laughter of very dear friends, the sweet smile of your godson, the feeling of being sated, that this life is enough.