Up until now there has never been an impressive third act to any of our Boston Children’s Holiday Gatherings. I tend to spend all my social niceties on that Saturday, and it takes enough out of me that I rarely join in the brunch festivities on the day after. Part of me also hates sad Sunday goodbyes, so I’d rather pull an Irish exit and not have to do any of the sad stuff. A quick wave over my shoulder without turning back, a la Liza Minelli’s turn in ‘Cabaret’, is my idea of an extended farewell.
But this year everything is different, and after being away from these friends for so long, I wanted to extend our time together. Besides, Cormac made reservations, so there would not be the chaos of an unplanned expedition (which I would have definitely avoided at all costs). And so I rose early and made it over to the breakfast place, where they had staked out an agreeable place that was playing the final World Cup game (and a dog show!)
This marvelous group of friends had put on the t-shirts I’d given out as semi-silly gag gifts, and were wearing them to breakfast with this website emblazoned upon the front. It was almost enough to make a sentimental chap well up with tears.
I sat down and was soon joined by Riley, who remains my spirit animal. Back in 2016 we met at Rehoboth Beach, where she offered sass, sass and more sass, and even when it was directed at me, I had to admire it, thus branding her my spirit animal. I saw shards and slivers of my own prickly heart in her defiance, and as much as I understood what heartache and trouble might result from it, I also knew it might be the gutsy glory that sees her through this wayward world. It’s already wonderful watching how she grows into who she is destined to be.
I’d also seen similar magic in Julia, though of a completely different sort. She provided the necessary comic relief of the morning with a spilled cup of tea, something I managed to capture a bit of while taking video of all the shirts, then realizing we should probably check to make sure she was ok. (She was – no children were burned in the making of this blog post.) Clearly I’m still new at taking care of the kids at all the times.
In the same way, I’m brand new at the World Cup, which it turns out only happens every four years, and yet no one sees fit to craft a halftime show for the world stage. Quite a lost opportunity. It was playing on the televisions, and we eventually ended up in one of the hotel rooms watching the end of it play out.
It went into overtime, or whatever the extra minutes and sudden-death shoot-out term is, pushing Anu and Cormac’s family to the very end of their schedule in getting to the airport on time. When the final screams and tears of Argentina’s epic win died down, a shout went out and the entire room went into a frenzy of packing and cleaning, the likes of which I’ve not seen outside of slapstick movies. I took a video to capture the hilarity (I would have only gotten in the way if I’d tried to help.) It was the best ending to a weekend that went from crappy to happy in the most glorious of ways. Somehow it reminded me of the joy we felt in our early twenties – when we’d just be sitting around some dilapidated kitchen table, talking about nonsense and trying to figure out the world around us, fumbling through the best way we knew, and coming back together at the end of a day or week and finding solace and comfort with each other.
