Shake-N-Bake for Easter Dinner?

I was blessed beyond measure to spend Easter Dinner at the recovery home that taught me to live life again. It was a small gathering as most of the residents spent the weekend with family or friends. Among the guests were 2 current residents, the weekend staff member, myself, and 2 women (alumni) whom I met my first day in the House. The three of us have seen each other consistently since I moved out of the House a year ago, but we have not spent the amount of one-on-one time together that we had become accustomed to. Both of these women are my Sober Sisters. Women for whom I would move mountains, and who have done that very thing for me. It was dinner tonight with these women that gave me the gift of feeling like you can go home again.

My tears at the end of the movie “Talladega Nights” actually were the catalyst that brought me to this conclusion. (For anyone that has seen that movie this may sound insane. And I kind of giggle at the thought myself. It truly was an awful movie, but the thrill of seeing a race track today when NASCAR did not race was worth the pain of watching.) I knew I felt a feeling of peace within that hasn’t been there for a while after I left the House, but I wasn’t sure exactly why until after the tears had begun falling.

The three of us have very diverse backgrounds. Back in the day, we were people who “normally would not mix”. Our current paths are just as different as our pasts. Life has taken us in what seems at times like opposite directions. By virtue of the fact that we share a connection to the House and have many mutual friends, we have remained acquainted with the surface structure of each others’ lives. Any involvement deeper than that, sadly, has been somewhat swept away by the business of life.

At dinner, as C lovingly prepared her mother’s Bunny Salad, I was reminded of the demons with which she struggles. Her path has not been easy, yet she gives to others without expectation of anything in return. There are many times I wish I were more like her. If I could conquer her demons for her, I would. Instead, all I can do is love her the way I know that she loves me. Unconditionally. It has not always been this way for us. It amazes me to think of how far we each have come in our recovery and our friendship since the day we met over 2 years ago. It was her invitation (and the chance to pass on to her the boxes I had not yet sentenced to the trash heap) that prompted me to accept the invitation extended by the staff member earlier in the weekend.

M was not expected for dinner so it was a wonderful surprise that she should join us. I spend less time with her than I do C, so being able to sit down and chat was a welcome event. She is a beautiful, strong woman whose aura oozes peace and serenity. She has an incredible connection to her HP which bubbles over to how she relates to others. M often makes a point of making one feel very loved by letting you know how often you are in her thoughts. She did just that tonight when she told me that one of her journals flipped open the other day to an entry about me. She had tears in her eyes as she spoke. It was an entry from our trip to Chicago for my father’s funeral. It was something she did out of love and without hesitation and it was my first feeling of true friendship.

So…how does “Talladega Nights” fit here? Sharing the Winner's Circle with a true friend. It gets me every time.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.

Dinner on the homefront.

I really felt uninspired all day today. I think the step-work I’m doing is taking its toll.

I usually look forward to cooking a meal, but I was considering cancelling making dinner this evening for my 2 roommates. This normally wouldn’t be a big deal, but it’s the first time since I’ve lived here with this couple that we’ve made a point of having a “family meal”. After the shenanigans of the last couple of weeks with my aborted move, I made the suggestion so that we could hopefully bond and get to know each other a little.

Grilled Chicken Kabobs with Red and Green Peppers. Steamed Long Grain and Wild Rice. Sautéed Mushrooms. I forgot how much I enjoy cooking and entertaining. We all stood in the kitchen chatting as the meal was prepared, then sat at the table pleasantly conversing while we enjoyed the meal. Nothing mind-bending. Just light conversation about our days and our plans for the upcoming weekend.

All in all, I think it went well. I was surprised that my Irish roommate attended at all as he was not thrilled with the suggestion to begin with. His suggestion was that we meet for dinner after a meeting. His schedule is far too busy to commit to spending any time at home. To me that kind of blew the whole purpose: creating memories in our home. In the end, his schedule allowed him to participate with my Cuban roommate and me, and he seemed surprised at how things turned out. I wasn’t surprised at all. It’s what families do to stay in touch. My parents taught me that. Thank you, God!

This dinner, though, I fear will be an anomaly. It truly isn’t often that our schedules permit us to share an evening together at home. And that somewhat saddens me. I long for the feeling of a family unit again. Oh, I know that my AA family is ever present in my life, but for me, the memories of “home” and sharing a meal, a movie, a game of cribbage, or just sitting around the table having coffee, all in your own home, is a hole in my life I am yearning to have filled.

I realize now as I sit here lamenting over better days gone by, the anniversary of my mother’s death is bearing down on me. (Sunday the 21st will mark 7 years.) With the step-work I’m doing, there are a lot of memories, good and bad, being brought to the surface. My sponsor has taught me that I cannot ignore the emotionally toxic memories. They have just as equal a part in who I am today as the fluffy feel-good memories. In recovery, the two can co-exist. It is my choice which I project.

So today, I will accept this dinner as a token of hope that I am making forward progress in my recovery and in my relationship with my roommates. I will view it is a success in taking contrary action. I will acknowledge that maybe the family dinners of my childhood may just be a little romanticized in my mind. And I will thank my Higher Power for another day sober.

Thank you for paying me a 12 Step call.