This afternoon, after a long day of cooking and preparation, we hosted a commemoration at my parents' gravesite. I read two poems I wrote for them ("Harvest" and "Just Before," which have been posted here in one form or another in the past) and the assembled group read some short readings appropriate for the situation. Richard played a couple of numbers on the harmonica. Then we went back to the house and chowed down for quite a while, and hung the mezzuzah on the doorpost, once Richard determined he had found nails small enough to fit into the tiny holes. It was clumsy, as my parties usually are, but no one went away hungry. And everyone seemed to enjoy touring the house and basking in the light in the living room with their plates of food or else outside on the front lawn, drinking their lavender lemonade (a recipe from Native Foods' cookbook). It was sweet to spend time talking to friends I generally only greet in passing.
Thank you friends for sharing the day with me.