To give and have others receive

Anecdotes on the pleasure of opening one's home and sharing homemade meals with loved ones.

Photo by krakenimages on Unsplash

The other weekend, we had our first overnight house guests stay with us in rapid succession. My brother, driving through on his way back home or to school, has taken to using our house as a way station, if for nothing more than a bathroom break and a meal. He was on his way back to campus to continue his junior year of college (I feel old) and, in typical fashion, came south a couple hours later than he (or I) anticipated. He’s a mosey-er, a meanderer, in the purest form.

Especially on the trips where he is leaving home again, I get the sense that The Husband and I are a breath of fresh air. There is an unacknowledged comfort in the familiarity of the people you’re with without being at home again; he knows, without it being said, that I will welcome any conversation with him that he is willing to give while also not expecting him to force himself to stay awake (or stay at all) if he needs to sleep or leave or get something done or have just a few minutes to himself. I have watched him, visibly, decompress after the long drive and listened to his minor woes about his fellow drivers on the road. I’ve caught up on the family drama and gossip.¹ I’ve lovingly bullied him and I’m not sorry about it. There’s a deep joy in watching younger siblings grow up and mature into adulthood that I’ve gotten to witness firsthand with every visit he’s made.

I made a family favorite for dinner the night he drove in because I knew he’d eat it with me; the vindication that I made the correct amount of pasta when he dolloped a ~mountain~ of noodles onto his plate was unmatched.² We stayed up late into the night chatting about small nothings before sending him to bed. He had a freshly made bed, clean towels, and no clue how to work the shower upstairs; he’d be fine. The next morning, we repeated it all again, I made a pot of coffee and he and I sat at the kitchen table and shared the quiet morning together, him with his black coffee and college stories and me with my equal ratio of coffee to creamer and quipy comments and (in my opinion) sage advice and perspective. We treated him to lunch and, when we sent him on his way, he left with a soda for the road.

Put simply, we gave, willingly and without thinking, and he received, willingly and without thinking. Like second nature. Like breathing.

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MLK Day gave those of us in Texas cold weather and an extra day off of school because the roads were bad.³ We had already planned on having dear friends over for dinner to visit with them, after several weeks of plans fell through, had already agreed that we would make dinner at home instead of going out to eat like we normally would, so, while the roads were still mostly clear, they came. And pretty quickly realized that our pipes were unfrozen and our heater was still running, in other words our home was warm and water was running. And they mentioned that their water was… not. Whether for lack of pressure or due to frozen pipes, they had the barest trickle through their faucet. We ~immediately~ told them they should have told us and packed bags and expected to stay the night, even if they didn’t know if we had running water, these friends are familiar with our mentality of “we will offer anything at the barest hint of need.”

They ended up spending the night. Shocker.

And after dinner was over, the plates loaded into the dishwasher, and all leftovers put away, we had the pleasure of offering spare toothbrushes and deodorant and phone chargers and more towels so they would feel more comfortable with the unexpected stay.

The next morning, again, I made coffee and sat at the kitchen table and talked about small nothings in the light of the morning sun. I made lunch and we all stood around the kitchen eating warm grilled cheese sandwiches on the cold tile. And we sent them on their way with the knowledge that, if they needed, they were welcome to pack bags and come straight back (an offer that stands even if they didn’t hold us to it that particular time) and sodas for the road.

Put simply, we gave, willingly and without hesitation, and they received, willingly and with only a little hesitation. Like second nature. Like habit.

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This is the goal, has always been the goal, for our home. To be a revolving door of visitors and friends on the lookout for good food and good conversation and good company. To provide an honest and open expectation with loved ones that they will always have a place set at the table for them, that they don’t need to earn this luxury by bringing anything or doing anything or being anything other than themselves. To rise to the joking suggestion that The Husband and I host his family’s Thanksgiving now that we have a more permanent house. To have a home that rings with laughter and has soaked in love like a sponge. To give and have others receive, willingly and happily. Like second nature. Like a smile.

Until next time.

In other news, dear reader, I’m always on the lookout for new recipes and/or food combinations. What are some family favorites you enjoy making? What recipes do you keep in mind to bring to potlucks or throw together when you host?

1. It was, indeed, through this brother that I found out our grandfather’s older brother has a girlfriend, which says more about my family’s news network than anything else

2. In our family unit, this brother is known for batting cleanup on every plate. If you put too much food on your plate, chances are good he’ll finish it for you. If you want seconds, you better eat fast and get them before he does

3. Insert “not bad by Midwest or Northeast standards, but Texas drivers have no idea how to even approach driving on icy roads, thus the state shut down” comment here