I flew down to Sydney last Friday for a family party. My parents had their 40th anniversary two years ago and turn 70 next year but this is the year when all of my siblings are in the country at the same time. We are not a party family, nor much for large gatherings, so it was a big deal. Sixty adults and a good dozen children gathered at a friend’s house for lunch. The forecast was for a perfect day of 25C. By 7.30am we were sweating and starting to crisp up as we set up the gazebo and tables. It was much hotter than forecast, a fiercely bright day of ferociously blue skies and burning sun. Guests reclined on the grass under the trees while children undaunted and sunburnt rearranged the gravel of the driveway.
It was a good day. My parents were thrilled that all those people gathered for their sakes. Both of them spoke and both cried a little. The Powerpoint presentation worked, the food was plentiful, cold fruit punch flowed and friendships were renewed. We remembered loved ones who had long passed away and friends that could not be there.
A new grandchild arrived the night before adding to the excitement and incidently temporarily stranding me.
It was a good trip. It was good to go and even better to return which is how things should be. I had time to think, to read, to sleep and even time to write. And it made my parents very happy. It’s nice to know that even as an adult you can occasionally do that.