"COMMUNION: It rarely fails that Friday rolls around and I am compelled to bake a couple of loaves of bread. In a few minutes I will head north, to Shelburne, for some of our favorite cheese and a bottle of Mrs. Fox's latest beverage of choice, a Reisling called "Relax." I'll turn south, pick up the young folk and continue on to piano group lessons, after which we'll come home for communion. The tradition begun when you and Cami were here to share continues. Though it's lonely without you. It's nice to believe that one is irreplacable, but you truly are! There's nobody left who we would want to commune with on a Friday evening. Come summer it's not so bad, since PdV is open. Still, a winter Friday is here and you aren't. I hope you're having fun, this Friday."
Wet-eyed, I wrote back....
"Dear Jeffrey... Thank you. Every now and then in life we catch a signal from far away.... reminds me of when I was a kid listening to my first AM radio under the covers of my bed way too late at night.... the WNYC oldies show "The Milkman's Matinee" and every now and then Kansas City... I would imagine myself some young, hip kid in Manhattan.... a Holden Caulfield of sorts (RIP J.D.) .... Tonight I got home, did the floors and started laundry before Cami got home.... I am about to go meet her at the grocery store but first stopped to check facebook.... and here you are, WNYC at night all over again.... A signal from a wonderful time... that we will visit again I might add!! Cheers to you and to the family and to bread and wine and to friends, near and far. You add all that together and indeed, you get communion.
We miss you, especially on Friday nights.
Blessings all the way around...!"
Bread. The staff of life. And when we share it... the proverbial breaking of bread... we become closer. We become family.
Blessings to you all.
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