Updated: Jul 16
I sit amongst the perfectly laid table and listen to the sounds coming from the kitchen.
A warm summer's evening, a slight breeze in the air, giving a lift from the hot stagnant day. A gentle release for us all.
Everyone is busy doing their own job to make the evening meal happen. I was never the cook but the table setter or prep'er.
The smell of the meat frying in the pan, wafting through the kitchen window to the patio area.
I set the table for three, it's always, mainly three. With knives and forks clinking together as I walk from the kitchen to the outside table. The glasses gently clink together when I place them on the table.
I sit amongst the perfectly laid table and listen to the sounds coming from the kitchen; sizzling meat, pots and pans draining the potatoes, salads been prepared. The muffled chatter of the two in the kitchen, conversing about the meal they are preparing. Until I am shouted to help bring the meal to the lovingly prepared table.
A feast, a rainbow of colours upon my plate. A delicious piece of meat, fit for a king or queen. A rare delight to have upon my plate.
First silence as we enjoy the food mouthful by mouthful and then joyous conversation, either reflection or contemplating the future. Silence will return again when our bellies are full and we just listen to the noises that surround us.