Potluck 1225 by Louise Arnott, chocolate porter

 Dishes done, kitchen tidied, Mara’s guests began to gather their belongings and head for their respective vehicles. A cacophony of voices called back to her through the frigid night:

            ‘That was so much fun.’

            ‘What a great idea.’

            ‘Definitely the best Potluck supper I’ve ever been part of.’

            ‘Thank you so much - an absolutely brilliant evening.’

            ‘Let’s keep in touch.’

            ‘Good bye, good night, drive safely.’

Mara waved and called out, ‘Thanks for coming. Safe home.’

            Doors slammed, cars reversed, snow crunched under square tires and a slow moving convoy drove out of the quiet cul-de-sac. Mara stood, shivering under the bright porch light. She took shallow breaths of crisp winter air, and watched until the last taillights disappeared around the corner. She walked into her home, and locked the door. She leaned against it for a moment savouring the moment, then wandered into the bedroom to change.

***

 The idea for the potluck had been hatched five days earlier when Mara had bumped into Kelly coming out of the DIY section of the library.

            Kelly, balancing books related to home plumbing repairs, attempted a one-armed hug. ‘Are you going home for Christmas?

            ‘No, I’m going to immerse myself in books I never seem to have time to read. I called the sibs yesterday and informed them I won’t be joining them. Evie’s email last week informing me of when I was expected - the 24^th, and where I’d be staying, Bart’s that night and Evie’s on Christmas night’- was the push I needed.

'It dawned on me that going home would actually mean leaving home. My home is not with my sisters, brothers and their extended families. I love them but we are on different trajectories. Why should I justify my single lifestyle to any of them? Sorry, a simple ‘NO’ would have sufficed. How about you?’

            Kelly held up one of her books. ‘I’m keeping company with a couple of leaking taps although I haven’t let the folks know I choose leaky taps over feuding family.’

            Mara tapped her fingers against the spine of the latest Lucy Foley book and made a snap decision. ‘If you don’t have plans beyond your taps, I’m thinking about inviting some people over for potluck on the 25th. I’d love for you to come. The only stipulation is whatever you bring must not have the ring of Christmas - no turkey, no cranberries, no gifts.’

            ‘Great idea. I’m all in, on condition no carols will be playing in the background or any expectation of us wearing those stupid paper party hats. Fruitcake is a hard no in my humble opinion. Would you mind if I asked a couple of friends? You don’t know them but I’m sure they’ll fit right in.’

            ‘I can seat eight comfortably at the table but we could squish in a few more if you bring those folding chairs you bought at IKEA.’

            ‘Done deal. Potluck is fantastic. I’ll let you know how many like-minded souls I can round up. I’ll set the parameters so no one shows up wearing a Santa hat or worse. What time on the 25th? You don’t need to know what we’re bringing, right?’ 

            ‘Right, it will be a true potluck. That’s more fun than a planned meal. Let’s eat at six, so say five o’clock to give us time to meet and greet, and get the goodies on the table.’

***

 

Mara, snuggly in her Snoopy pjs, blue fleece dressing gown and faded yellow slippers wandered into the living room and leaned back in her worn leather recliner. She slowly sipped a wee whisky, mesmerized by the crackling flames in the fireplace.

            She smiled as she considered the evening - simple, relaxed, perfect really. Friends arrived with friends, and by the time the twelve squished together to share a meal comprised of an unplanned array of delicious foods, new acquaintances were well on their way to friendships. Individuals found commonalities, interests and opportunities they’d like to explore with newfound friends.

If the talk and laughter throughout the evening were any indication, all present had had a good time leading several guests to hope Potluck1225 would become a tradition, one which Mara would look forward to hosting for many years to come.  

 

About the author

 

Louise moved from land-locked Calgary, Alberta to Victoria, British Columbia to enjoy ocean views. Instead she spends hours in her basement writing about the uncommon in the commonplace. 

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