There was a wedding

There was a wedding in Napa. It was a fabulous party. Wine, twirling, white teeth and the music. I was not without. I watched as my friends let the whispers of their love be heard in the daylight. The church was small and plain and served as a place to meet, just a place with regular people as witnesses.

Later I slept in a different bed against a familiar man as the vines climbed the stakes outside our window. I slept in stillness against strength.

When I woke the warmth of the kitchen filled the air. It was egg casserole with strangers. It was a screened in porch with a flowered tablecloth, brown toast, preserves, and cool cantaloupe. Smiles, array of coffee cups, one fly. I watched as the stories began in the daylight. Stories I wouldn’t have heard besides the opening of the oven and an invitation to the table by a host. The porch was small and plain and served as a place to meet, just a place with regular people as witnesses.