That New England drawl resonates from the kitchen.
No one utters a word, because we know exactly what that means. In a matter of minutes the snack aisle from the grocery store will be emptied out into the backyard. Ha, the pantry door squeaks in validation, and we all loosen our belts. My son-in-law has a smile on his face and we warn him to stand by. He doesn’t know.
The knife is slicing something on the cutting board, and the rip of a cracker bag let’s me know it’s probably Sharp Vermont Cheddar. It’s always Vermont Cheddar. It will be cut to mimic the size of the crackers, and slices of beef stick will be on the tray too.
The rattle of the peanuts can is next, and then the screen door slams shut. The BBQ grill will be lit just in case someone gets hungry, and a holler through the screen lets everyone know there is freshly-prepared shrimp cocktail in the fridge.
We’ve been here before,
This is home.
They are our beacon and even though lobstah will follow snack time, a trip home isn’t about food at all. Instead, it is simply a chance to gather and bask in family while we immerse ourselves in laughter, memories, and ok, food. Time goes on, and family is all over the country, but if there is one thing we have in common, it is that beacon; that beacon we call home.
You know…I think a snack is what I need right about now.
The gift of time…..
The Daily Post: Snack