generous helpings

"Woah, $58. Is that okay?" asked the man at the meat counter after he flopped a second flank steak on the scale. "Yeah, it's fine. It's my birthday and I've got great friends." I was throwing a party, afterall, and treating my friends and myself to a fantastic night was exactly the gift I wanted. "Wow, I guess so. Lucky friends." he said. "I think you should put a jar at the door and take donations." I laughed and scooped up the two brown-wrapped steaks and wheeled my already-full cart off to load up on extra tomatoes and avocados.

The party was better than I ever could have planned. My sister came in from Vermont as a surprise, my brother grilled the steaks to perfection, and my different groups of friends were making new friendships among themselves. There were introductions and fresh conversations. You know how they say when you learn new things your brain actually carves new pathways? It felt kind of like that--new pathways. The energy was so engaging that no one even noticed my parents rolling their large suitcases across my front lawn and walking in the front door. And somehow during the hugging and hellos with my parents, I didn't notice my friends had lit candles on a cake. And there I was, in my little house flanked by my parents, surrounded by my friends all packed in shoulder to shoulder as they sang to celebrate my birthday. It was a top-10 moment in my life so far.

My brother and sister's visit was too short, but my parents were here for a week. Their flight left early this morning. The three of us spend nearly the entire time putting a patio in a little gravely spot next to my house where the driveway had been busted up a few months ago. It was hard work and expensive, certainly nothing I would have been able to do on my own. But my parents were truly tireless and over-the-top is the only way to describe the beautiful patio they helped me create. My parents generosity overwhelms me on a regular basis. Last night we had dinner there--on the patio under a swollen spring moon. We ate steaks, purchased from the same guy who had sold me the flanks exactly a week before. My father ordered three NY Strips and told the now-very-familiar-with-my-life meat counter guy the story about the patio. "Wow, what a birthday present," he said. "Lucky girl. You guys want to adopt a 47 year-old male?" I blushed at his comments; I feel almost embarrassed at how much good has come my way this week. I am very, very lucky. My generosities to my friends and family feel insignificant to what I've been given. There's no need to leave a jar by the door. I know how much I've got--it's a fortune.