Life is a Smorgasbord

In so many ways I am fortunate, blessed and wealthy. As years are quickly added to my age, along with experience, one thing I am especially grateful for is that I am still able to enjoy the company of both parents.
For most of my adult life we have been separated by hundreds of miles. Right after my youngest child was born, the only girl of their 10 grandkids, my parents spent 4 years hundreds of miles across an ocean away on another continent! So a couple years ago when they relocated permanently just a little more than a 2 hour drive from my house, it became much easier to get together far more frequently than we’d been able to in 25 years.
I had a free day and decided to fill it up with a drive over to their house. I love driving, especially in the country. I pass a lot of open acreage green with native growth and smooth gray skeletons of bare dead trees set against a wide blue sky. Pastures are speckled with cattle and horses that gather in social groups under a lone tree or a sparse cluster of vegetation, some find refreshment at the edge of a pond. I catch glimpses as I pass at 60 miles an hour, (the posted speed, though I may set my cruise control for an extra 5, shhhh, our secret!), of a horse rolling in the dirt creating a cloud of dust, or a calf quickening it's step to catch up to its mother, or some just laying down without a care in their world of sameness. Grazers go about the business of grass eating oblivious to the hitch-hikers that are getting a free ride on their backs, white birds that contrast boldly to the black or brown hides of their unmindful hosts. Always vultures are seen circling over what they intend to make their dinner, often what has been hit by a car, and there are eagle and osprey nests on telephone poles near enough to the road so that the inhabitants of the twiggy homes are visible. My favorite landmark though is the front pasture of the miniature horse farm when occupied by the little cuties. That particular land frequently has standing water so they are not often in the front pasture when I drive past, but when they are I have pulled off the road to watch and get pictures of them, they are just that charming!
Even though my parents house has identified with several different addresses over the years, whatever one they were in has always been "home". It is they who make it so, not the physical location but the atmosphere created by them and with their presence at that location. It silently states, "welcome", in a Norman Rockwell, Thomas Kinkade sort of way.
Upon arrival I am greeted with warm genuine hugs. We usually sit a while conversing about what has filled our days since the last visit. We, like all good conversationalists, manage to discuss and solve all of the worlds woes in just a few hours as politics and religion get sorted out, and we make solid and tentative plans for what we hope to do in upcoming days just for fun and enjoyment of family and friends.
We take walks, their small community of retired missionaries bustles this time of year with volunteers who have come from freezing northern territories to the warm south, a treat for them while investing their time, energy and skills into maintenance, building and remodeling. We always enjoy admiring their work, a treat for and mission to the residents who themselves devoted much of their lives to serving God by serving others. We admire the neighbors foliage, dodge greet and chat with golf cart drivers that come from every direction, stop into the "boutique" where one can leave unwanted but still usable items for another to take, and include a stop into the fellowship hall where there is a table of assorted breads and pastries, free for anyone who’d like some.
The property is surrounded by orange groves so for several months of harvest they also are supplied with buckets of oranges and grapefruits, Mom squeezes them by the pitcher full for the most delicious juice ever, mmmm, I wish I could have a glass right now just thinking about it! This time of year the orange trees are blossoming so the air is scented with the sweet aroma of the their fragrant blooms
I am always treated to one of their favorite dining spots as each visit culminates in a meal out, this most recent one to Homers smorgasbord. I haven't been to a smorgasbord in probably years, so it was a great treat, so many choices! A salad section, a sides section, a main course section, a desert section, a soup station and a beverage station, each with irresistable variety. I took only about 2 forkfulls of each so I could sample many, still filling a plate twice, before desert and coffee! We laughed at how my brother is the only one we know who plans his next meal before he's finished the one he's eating!
On the way back to their house we stopped into the grocery store, I chose a few things that I knew I needed at my house but my parents always insist on paying for whatever I pick out when we're shopping so I wanted to keep it minimal. I tried as usual at the register to get Dad to let me pay for mine, but as usual, he said no, still for whatever reason we do this little routine each time. I guess it’s just because I do know he doesn't have to, and he knows I know he doesn't have to, but it is his pleasure and mine, and so we need to acknowledge that we appreciate the gestures. For me its financial assistance easing the continually tight costs of living, for them it's Dad and Mom caring still, always, for their "little girl", a tangible way to show their love and best wishes for my well being.
When we got back to their house it was time for me to head back to mine, we put the groceries in my car, ALL of them, everything that Mom had chosen while at the grocery store was for me to take home, she has finely honed her prowess when it comes to giving me the stuff she wants me to have! There was also a little stack of goodies she had gathered on the counter for me, a couple little jars she thought I could use for beads or sequins with my crafting, some paper and a little book by a poet she knows I like. Once again I arrive at my parents house empty handed, but return filled. So filled with gratitude for moments well invested, filled with thoughtful goodies and items necessary for comfortable everyday living, filled after a leisure meal together at the local smorgasbord, filled.
As I made my way back through all the small country towns to my own town, the sun was setting on the day. It had been another one filled with the best life has to offer, I was filled, my thoughts were filled. Life is a smorgasbord I thought. In youth it seems the whole world is laid out before you, on display, at its finest. It is all so tempting, trying a little of this and a little of that, finding what suits your taste, drinking it in. And then before you know it youth has vanished, but the effects of choices at life’s smorgasbord linger. Middle age awakens taste buds to savor the enhanced flavors that come with a life of experiences. And for my parents, retired people, there are a lot of things offered at the smorgasbord of life that will be passed over, things that by experience they’ve learned just aren’t as tasty as they look and that gluttony at the smorgasbord will ultimately only serve to make them fat, ugly, sad, miserable and broke, and give them heartburn robbing them of a good night’s sleep. Even though it’s all right there, it still requires choosing, and the choosing will affect what happens next.
My next’s have been good, and intertwined with all of my trips to the smorgasbord is my parents, holding the door, clearing the table, joining with me, and picking up the tab. All this they do so that I might more thoroughly enjoy the meal, making it a feast even, and be filled.