Making Moments

I attended the most lovely dinner party earlier this week. The guest list was outstanding, the conversation was sparkling, and I didn’t even have to leave home. In fact, this event was so impromptu that I was completely unaware of it until I sat down to dinner.

Monday was the last day of summer vacation for my kids and, given what felt like an egregiously early start date for school, everyone was moping around the house. The sun was shining, the crickets were chirping, and it was prime swimming weather. But a pall had fallen over the house. It’s not even that my kids don’t like school. The return to routine would probably be good for us all and they were eager to see their friends. But they were not ready to let go of summer. Neither was I.

That evening my husband arrived home sporting a few mystery bags and headed out to the back patio, where the table had been set. A summertime dinner had morphed into a school night dinner before any of us were at all ready to embrace sensible bedtimes or school supply lists.

When we joined him out back we found ridiculous Bert and Ernie party hats at everyone’s place. There was a bottle of champagne for the two of us and a sack from Target tucked under my husband’s seat. There was also a sheet with an identical list of photocopied questions he had hastily composed. Dinner commenced.

After a toast to the summer that we were already feeling sentimental about, we looked at our lists and began to mull over some answers. “What was your favorite moment this summer?” “What was your favorite meal?” “What was the most unexpected thing that happened?” “What was the funniest line you heard?” And so began a long, leisurely trip back to June and July and the early dog days of August, complete with prizes from the dollar bin at Target for best answer. My son scored super sour bubble gum. One daughter received a leopard skin headband and the other some fancy post-it notes. I received a pot scrubber and some tea towels. They could just as easily have been scrap booking grommets or children’s gardening tools given the unpredictable pickings of the dollar bin.

But as we sat there laughing and reminiscing and giving my husband a hard time about the cheesy gifts, I realized that we were experiencing something very sweet and special. And long after many of the vacation memories we were sharing might fade away I knew that I would still remember this night. Out of an ordinary Monday evening that bordered on dreary, my husband had done something magical. He had created a moment. We all felt it and we savored it as we wrung out the last drops of summer.

Such moments do not have to include prizes (heaven knows those prizes were not exactly deluxe) because they are premised on something infinitely more precious than anything money could buy. My husband blessed us all by transforming the mundane and forgettable into something precious and memorable with a few simple photocopied questions and the desire to breathe life into an evening that could easily have passed us by. We laughed together. We agued about whose best memory was really best and we gave closure to a particularly sweet summer in a particularly sweet way.

I am not suggesting that we all add “make more memories” to our already overwhelmed schedules. Somehow that smacks of the Martha Stewart-like perfection that can often serve to distance us from the soul satisfying moments we seek. But I do know that my husband reminded me of an important lesson the other night out there on the patio. Memories are there for the making. It may require a bit of thoughtfulness and intention but magic can happen anywhere if we take the time to make it and believe that it can be so.

My kids have since hit the deck running. And, with only four days of classes under their belts, the more free form days of summer already feel like a mirage. But I will always remember that sweet sultry night when we lingered in our party hats, swapping stories and laughing together. And as the school year heats up I will try to remember that special moments may be made at any time. Perhaps I should light the candles for dinner tonight.