I Have No Idea What I Ate: in Champaign-Urbana, August 16th, 2023: the Past, the Present and a Damn Near Perfect Composition of Humans

In mid-August, I moved my niece into college. Well, I helped my niece — who, sometimes I think is my sister and sometimes I think is me — move into college. On a campus that was once mine. A place I called home for four years. A place heaving with memories, and maybe even with some skin cells of mine still floating around in the wind. And suddenly I was standing there to insert someone else — not into my place — but into her place. To usher her into her new place, her new home. Nothing to do with me everything to do with me nothing to do with me. Isn’t that how everything dear to us feels?

The move-in happened fast. Much faster than I anticipated. There were lots of hands on deck and work was made light. When my sister and I stepped out to buy Olivia a number between 7 and 700 forgotten things, her new roommate’s family invited us to go eat with them. I said thank you, and then felt sad. I assumed Olivia wouldn’t want to go. I assumed my sister wouldn’t want to go. I wanted to go — my ability to socialize has nearly no cap and other people — I’ve heard — have a cap on that — so I was willing and ready to decline. But Olivia wanted to go and my sister wanted to go, so we let them know we were in.

It’s weird how we land in beauty. How we fall into it.

We met at a bar/restaurant, and when we walked in, the hostess led us to a private room. I wasn’t sure how that would feel — with the composition of people we were — I kinda thought we may need the potential distraction of a bustling dining room full of people and kids and conversation-that-wasn’t-ours, but there was nothing to do but embrace it. We did some rearranging of the setup, sat down, and then it began. People placed orders — for beer or soda or water or whatever — and for food — and just like opening the pages of a book, we unfolded.

Let me show you the table: *please note: only Olivia and Devon — the two new U of I students — will be granted names here/everyone else will be described in their relation to the two students, aka our pillars/the reason we came together

Left side: Olivia’s bf — Olivia — Devon — Devon’s Dad

Head of table: Devon’s mom

Ride side: Olivia’s mom/my sister — Me — Olivia’s bff — Devon’s sister

Obviously the bf knew Olivia v well, her bff well, her mom enough, and then no one else at all

Olivia knew her bf and bff v well, her new roomie enough, her roomie’s mom a little, and her dad/sister not at all

I knew Olivia and Olivia’s mom [a.k.a. my sister] v v well, Devon and her mom a little — from a fantastic Russian Tea House experience early summer — the bf and bff enough (through Olivia’s love for them), and Devon’s dad and sister not at all

Kori knew the bf and bff pretty well, her daughter and me all-too-well, and no one else at all

I could keep drawing this little friend-and-family tree for you, but you get the point.

I just kept returning to my mental math: this will be awkward. But worth it. Awkward-but-worth-it. A reach towards connection, towards cohesion — a moment all together at the onset of Olivia and Devon’s college experience. All of their family/friends who moved them in, sitting and sharing time together. Awkward-but-worth it.

I could not have been more wrong.

You know when you don’t see something good coming? How much joy bombards you when you aren’t aware of it’s impending arrival? You’re walking along, thinking life is not terrible but it sure does lack sparkle and then — this insane giant beautything gets thrown in your face? And you’re left gasping, panting, more grateful than you thought you could be? That’s how this meal left me.

Someone started with something — threw out a statement or observation — someone added something — someone added onto that — over and over again. Like a house of cards being built — everyone knew when to pull back, when to come forward, when to be humble, how much to give. When to hold onto a syllable or a space until the next person was ready to step up. When to clip a story of their own — no matter how fantastic it was — no matter how much we all innately like our own voice. It was like watching all the very best parts of humanity in motion. Each of us a cog.

I don’t know what we ate. I love food and I love writing about food but it’s never ever ever the food. It’s what we needed it to be or wanted it to be or one spice in the middle of a bite that returns us to one moment when someone made us finally feel seen or loved. It’s heat when you’re cold and a killer crunch when life has bored the shit out you. I know there were nachos — and that everyone who took a chip was the most careful not to take all the beans, or all the cheese, or all the sour cream. I don’t remember much else on the table. I remember us: a veritable Alice in Wonderland table of characters who never knew they would be seated together on that hot, late summer day.

Every time I told the story of the meal for the next few weeks, I cried. And I mean cried. Hot tears searing my cheeks. Gratitude. Gratitude. The awareness that God continually offers me up glory and the pride that I continually take part in it.

The meal will carry me. That’s what the big beautythings do in life. They carry you — until the next one comes. They’re that capable; that strong. I can have a really bad day and sit there, with my tissues tossed on the floor around me like confetti — and then feel my back straighten, and my eyes widen, as I remember. And then I speak to the nonexistent panel of people judging me, and I say: I’m sorry I gave into gloom for a minute. I know light and dark hang out together. I really like the dark. Sometimes more than the light. But, bitch: you shoulda been at that table. That was enough light to brighten the darkest corners of any person. That was magic.

footnote: August 16th is/was Olivia’s birthday. ❤