There’s something about being around a table that brings people together on a deeper level. The proximity, the breaking of bread cultivating community.
The warmth of bodies huddled around the table, laughing. The noise rising as little groups form, chatting. The voices of each attempting to be heard over the others.
Bowls and platters of comforting goodness are passed. Dishes heaped high with sweets and savories, making their way around until everyone has their fill.
Corks pop, signaling another round. The party continues. Glasses are refilled, quickly exchanging hands from guest to guest.
Candles flicker, their soft glow adding a cozy air. A collective sigh is breathed as the room becomes warm, relaxed, serene.
As wine flows so does honest conversation, laughter, tears.
As food is shared so are joys, sorrows, affirmations.
It’s intangible and palpable at the same time, washing over you in waves. You want to soak it in with every breath, holding onto the loveliness long after forks cease to clink on plates and music fades into the background.
The moment when everyone leaves the dinner party, when the teeth have turned wine-stained red and coats have been gathered and Ubers called. And all that’s left is a sink full of dishes and trash bags bulging, begging to be taken to the curb.
The comforting din abruptly becomes a stifling silence. The host is left with the memories of what their space just contained.
The secrets, the connections, the love.
They’re left holding onto the simple wonder that only a dinner party can bring.