Bread & Wine Guest Post #3
I wore lipstick and heels and the stones moved under the thin soles of my shoes, my heels digging down into the surface of the ground.
We walked over cobblestone and pebbles and I will forever remember the way those stones felt under my feet…
Holy and altogether home.
The doors opened and we walked in together, the four of us. I sat next to her and my love sat next to him and one candle flickered, its heat warming my face.
The wait staff moved in and out of our space, pouring water and filling glasses and I laughed as the waiter explained the menu to me. He could have spoken broken English to me for hours and I would have never stopped smiling at him. I memorized his face, his hands, the way the light bounced off of his black hair…I memorized the moment.
I smile now as I turn that moment over and over again in my mind.
We devoured tortilla chips and good salsa and I remember watching my other half from across the table and I remember him leaning back in his chair, laughter erupting from his belly. He was wild with life as he hung strands of words in the air like Christmas lights and I remember the warm feeling that fell over me as I watched him come alive.
The hours slipped through our fingers and I felt myself grasping for more.
More time, more food, more closeness around the table.
I leaned in to my edge of the table and with my eyes, I begged her to keep talking, to keep sharing bits of her life. I swallowed every word she spoke. I was needy, starved for friendship and a kind word and she fed me.
My fingers are simply lost on the keyboard as I sift through the moments around the table. I don’t even remember the words she spoke or the way she spoke them, but I remember her and the way she shimmered in the candle light.
She looked like Jesus.
The wait staff cleared our table and I bought time by way of Mexican coffee.
Flaming Mexican Coffee.
I remember the heat of the flame, the way the waiter threw cinnamon onto the rim of the mug, each throw catching fire in the flame like sparklers on New Year’s. I remember us laughing out loud, the fire dancing in our eyes, the whipped cream floating on top of the coffee.
We sipped the dessert through straws and I imagined heaven being like this, all sparkly and creamy and sweet to the taste.
Filling to the body, satisfying to the soul, and…
By Lori Harris, And This is Grace
And a Second Helping!!
Pizza Stuffed With Grace
I am so lonely.
The words rolled off my tongue before I had the opportunity to think. Usually, I lead up to brutal honesty. Somewhere between the salad and the pizza, sharing lunch with a new friend, I found the courage to blurt out this deep longing. Karla covered the brokenness of my words with grace, inviting me to explain.
I moved from the cold, icy and gray Midwest to paradise about 18 months ago. Because of his job, my husband is still there and we’re counting the days until we are reunited. I forge ahead in a county known for its beauty, wealth and glorious sunshine.
Paradise has a price; I’ve found and mine is relational.Leave a Comment