So, Easter — there were eight adults, two children, and more food than any of us needed. I think it’s because we all love to cook — or maybe because when you get a lot of people together for holidays, everyone wants their traditional holiday foods. So we wound up with one leg of lamb, two roasted chickens, a ham (borne on Easter by the one Jew in the group, which caused all of us great merriment), the green-bean-and-crunchy-onion casserole, a big tray of asparagus, roasted potatoes, a potato gratin, a big salad, and a fluffy cake made by your’s truly with two genoise layers separated by raspberry jam and pastry cream, frosted with whipped cream/creme fraiche, and covered with strawberries. We ate a lot, drank a lot, and wound up on the deck sitting around the chimnea — in the middle of the night I woke up and my hair smelled like woodsmoke.
Easter was nice, but strange. Last year it was Patrick and I, and the Girlfriend stopped by after dinner with her parents. I think I cooked lamb, and we had a really sweet dinner with just the three of us. This year, there were a lot of people I truly love, and it was a fun party, but it is still very difficult. Every holiday this year is the First, and even when I think I’m fine, I seem to be less fine than I’d like to be. As my friend Hope said to me back at Christmas, “as much as you want to, you can’t just fast-forward through the sucky parts.”
I’m just grateful that I’m making the trip through these “sucky parts” with such great company. I love my friends, and I loved Easter, even though I missed Patrick terribly. On the other hand, the food was great, the cake was yummy, and the company was wonderful. Both/And.