On the Shortest Day of the Year

On the longest day of the year, we had a party, and randomly, everyone brought pink wine. Someone made an elaborate Stonehenge sculpture out of Rice Krispie treats and it almost seemed a shame to eat it, but we did. We lit the paper lantern lights and lounged out on the patio and told each other stories. It was 9 pm and the sun was still up, and I quoted a line from The Great Gatsby that is forever stuck in my head: 

“Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.” 

We were having the party because we didn’t want to miss it. To keep the conversation going, I asked a question. The question came from a friend who had been hiking the Appalachian Trail. She said one topic that none of the hikers ever get tired of talking about is food. The question is: What’s the best meal you ever had? 

My best meal took place in Memphis, Tennessee thirty-five years ago. My husband and I were invited out to a fancy restaurant by one of his work clients. This was the kind of place that serves multiple courses and there is no rush to eat them. We had never been to a place like this, and we were trying to play it cool. We were young and silly and wide-eyed and took it for granted that we had all the time in the world.  

When we were just settling in, the waiter took our drink order and said he knew we weren’t thinking about dessert yet, but he wanted to tell us about one of the items on the menu because it would take at least an hour to prepare. He went on to describe an enormous piece of chocolate cake. Nestled inside was a ball of chocolate, and throughout the meal, the pastry chef would slowly warm the cake in the oven, and when he brought it to our table, and we slid our forks into it, the perfectly melted chocolate would swirl out onto our plates. 

Everyone at the table ordered the cake. But by the time we finished the meal, course after course after course, we’d forgotten about it. When the waiter carried it to the table, even though we were all stuffed from dinner, we gasped with delight. It was exactly how he described. That fork slide, that swirl of melted chocolate. 

The funny thing is I don’t remember if it tasted good. I mean, it must have, right? But it’s the story I love. The detailed set up, the slow build, and everything turning out exactly how you hope.   

On the shortest day of the year, I am not throwing a party. We won’t lounge outside and we won’t drink pink wine. I don’t have a quote stuck in my head about it, but if I did, it would be something along the lines of: We are here, now, all of us together. Let’s not waste a moment. 

I’ll make you a cup of tea and we’ll cozy up inside and watch the sun slip down at 5:10 pm. I’ll ask you to tell me a story about what you love about today. 

And you will.