table for two

We are staying in one house.
All 16 of us.

I can’t remember the last time we all slept under one roof.
With 16 it has never been done.
And even when we were just 5. It has probably been over a decade.

My family is on vacation, and instead of the usual slew of condos at the beach,
My dad rented one house in Angel Fire New Mexico.

And I won’t pretend that it is all roses.

It is noisy.
There have been harsh words and too much wine.
But there has also been smores and big breakfasts.
There is laughing and running on the stairs and crying and screaming from too tired toddlers.
More giggles from cousins and splashes in the hot tub.
There is snoring from Paw Paw on the couch.
Cussing in the kitchen and quiet conversations on the deck.
And even though I like this noise.
The loud living together kind.
Last night I needed a bit of a retreat.

So me and just my husband slipped away and headed into Taos for a birthday dinner.

We had no plan and no leads only that we wanted to eat somewhere good and new at a table for two instead of sixteen.

And we ended up at a resturaunt that didn’t look so promising from the outside.
But we went in anyways and chose to sit on the patio.
Which was really more like a small back yard with a grand mountainous view.
The place was small with only a few tables and menu selections.
I chose my wine and meal quickly.

The couple next to us were obviously early in their relationship. They talked nonstop.
Which made me feel a little bad for me and my husband sitting so quietly.

Until I realized that maybe a hushed meal at the base of beautiful mountains was exactly what I needed.
And something you only get after years of marriage and no longer feeling the pressing need to talk or make conversations or impress.
Instead I sipped my wine and felt my heart quiet with each bit of my meal.
I could literally hear my heart slowing down and feel my muscles relax in the quiet.
We stole off of each other’s plates and mostly just listened.
To the wind.
To a chicken cock-a-doodling somewhere in the distance.
And the clink of silverware.
The quiet hush of familiar love.

And we drove the winding road home.
Suprisingly quickly. Like maybe we had had enough quiet for one night.
So we rushed home to our babies and the rest of the noise
And birthday cake for sixteen instead of two.

Again, this is another post from Creativity Boot Camp. Today's random word prompt: hush