Country Mouse Monday: parties & quiet

Maybe I'm alone on this one, but one of my favorite moments of having a party is the very end, when everyone's gone home and the dishwasher is humming along and all the platters and glasses are washed and stacked, ready to be put away.  

Don't get me wrong: I like the actual party-part of parties. I like people, really, I do. It's just that I most deeply love the taking-stock bit that comes at the end of an evening of revelry.

And the quiet. Oh, how I love it.

At the end, up to my elbows at the sink, I always have this strong sense of the dimensions of my own life -- I'm aware, standing at its suddenly-hushed center, of just how broad and bright it is.

And I can't deny how totally satisfying I find the putting back of each tool after it's served its purpose.

It's the same with my own self, I realize. For me as an introvert, hosting a party tends to present its own unique challenges. 

Of course it's a delight to have people here at the farmlet, to show off what's new and growing, to talk about the bees and what the summer will bring, to sit outdoors with candles burning and the new cafe-lights twinkling, to see people enjoying their meal, going back for seconds, laughing, talking.

That happy hum of a party can't be beat. Except...

Except, maybe, except for that quiet bit at the end, which I love so much. I enjoy it all while it's happening, making a point to sit down with a plate of food and let the communal buzz wash over me. To be in the flow of it, instead of outside observing, keen on every detail, who needs more wine.

But really and truly, oh how much I enjoy that moment, when the door closes on the last guest, after we've waited the decent couple of minutes for them to make their way out of the garden and into their cars, and we turn off the outside lights. That moment when I can swing my attention back inward, not just to the gathering up of empty bottles and plates, but also to the knitting back together of my own self.

That silence afterward always feel like the deep breath of fresh air I've been needing, unawares, for hours. I fill my lungs and get to work, happy with the memories of the evening, thinking ahead to the next time, making plans in the quiet night.

XX