For someone like me, the punch bowl meant one thing - people are coming to my house, lots of them, and we are going to party! After all, you don't really pull a punch bowl for one or two guests and certainly not just for the kids and Luke and me. No, you pull out the punch bowl when you have something to celebrate. You pull it out when plain old lemonade and ordinary soda/pop/coke won't do. You pull it out when those things need mixed together and a good dose of ice cream or sherbert or frozen yogurt gets added to the mix and it creates a delicious concoction of bubbly, frosty goodness that just makes everything a little bit more special.
As you can tell, my punch bowl has some deeper meaning for me.... I'm odd that way. So, imagine with me what it was like when my dear, normal husband held up that average, nondescript punch bowl and said, "What about this? It's kinda big and we probably won't be having a bunch of people over in our new house. Should we store it?"
STORE IT?!? You mean, in the next four years we will not have an occasion to invite people over for a celebration of any kind? For four years, our house will be too small to allow for celebratory get-togethers and times of community and fellowship? I'm pretty sure the look on my face and the tears in my eyes took my poor unsuspecting husband completely aback. The rational side of me understands why. The "me" side of me could only think of four years of no parties, no get-togethers, no happy times of appetizers and desserts and punch. And honestly, I thought of all the many times we'd had people over in our last house and all the joy those walls had held and, yeah, there was no way that punch bowl was going into storage.
So, it came. It got put up on the shelf in the laundry room. It was big, took up a lot of space and was useful only for stacking boxes of K cups on. Until last night. Last night, a bunch of ladies came down to my house to exchange unbaked rolls of cookie dough for our Christmas cookies this year. And I, well, I couldn't let a bunch of friends come over and not leave without something tasty to eat. I am Italian after all. I made some dips and cheeseballs, some dessert and fruits and veggies and then it hit me. This was a punch bowl moment. We were going to eat and play games and laugh and talk about Christmas and punch was definitely needed! I didn't have the ingredients for my normal punch but I threw together what I had and pulled out the bowl.
And there it was. In my new house. My new house that while smaller than my last was still big enough to celebrate. My new house where food and friends and fun all fit just fine and where warmth and joy still filled the air. We listened to Kenny G play Christmas carols as we played silly holiday games and ate yummy food and exchange our Christmas treats. One by one as my friends trickled out and the house got quieter and the after-gathering mess was there, I smiled!! My house was a home. I didn't even mind washing the dishes and cleaning up because it meant, life had happened in my tiny space in Wilmore.
The punch bowl is back up in the laundry room with stuff stacked on top of it but my girls have already asked for it to come out at Christmas time. Who said the punch bowl didn't get used for just us? Oh yeah, me. Well, I can change my mind on that too or, more likely, we'll have some friends over to share our celebration with us
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