Love on a Plate

I am pretty careful about what I eat. My usual daily regime is a Mojo bar for breakfast, a Trader Joe’s salad for lunch, and then whatever the family is having for dinner minus most of the carbs.

But not being able to drive is just the pits, and while Gabe was kind enough to do a TJ’s run for me on Monday, I was out of salads today. Not having a car, nor the means to drive it, means I’m stuck here until he comes to get me at 4pm.

My noonday culinary choices were expansive: oatmeal or Cream of Wheat. After enduring three weeks of mobility deprivation, I wasn’t in the mood to deprive myself of a normal lunch either. One can only handle so much deprivation at a time.

I was getting very depressed as the morning wore on, and hungrier. Hoping to plead mercy on a compassionate soul who would bring me something, anything, to eat. Except oatmeal.

And then Doc came in to announce that it was Potluck Day. Once a month, a group of lovely people who have known me since I was knee high to a tadpole, contemporaries of my parents and the parents of my friends, gathering for a potluck lunch together on a Thursday.

“You’re all invited!” His usual squinty-eyed grin was all the invitation I needed.

Now, unlike most potlucks these days, almost everything on the table was homemade except for the compulsory bucket of KFC. You can’t have a potluck without the Colonel’s secret recipe. Also, unlike most potlucks I frequent these days, there wasn’t a salad on the table unless you count macaroni salad WITH mayonnaise.

No, this was casserole heaven. The oldies but goodies like enchilada casserole and chicken divan. Pulled pork, and meatballs in a crockpot covered in sweet sauce.

It was love on a plate.

My bruised and frustrated soul was soothed, like a big warm hug from my grandpa. I ate more than I needed and I kept on going.

And then I had TWO desserts.

I’ll tell you what, three weeks on crutches would discourage anybody, not to mention all the other drama that’s been going on. It’s been a battle-weary year for this family, and my reserves are running pretty darn low.

But today, I’m filled up, both in body and spirit.

Love on a plate. Food made by hands that I love and by people who love me.

If that’s not a well-balanced meal, I don’t know what is.