A Strange Mix of Unrelated Families

Guffaws and infectious giggles accompany the humming of lazy crickets. The late summer afternoon vibrates with sunshine and a tinge of drowsy, food-induced sleepiness. I detach from a boisterous conversation and walk to a white table crowded with trays of brownies and lemon squares. The edge of the plastic tablecloth slaps my leg as I make a selection and retreat from the crowd of ravenous young children. The clanging of grill lids rises above the clamor- rich, metallic scents of roasted meat accompany the sharp noises. Pulling a plastic chair up to the table, I set my plate down and exchange smiles with a white-haired woman cradling her grandchild. My eyes wander to the surrounding tables. I see old men grinning at teenage boys' halting stories- mothers reprimanding their children in between incredulous shakes of the head- young girls, still awkward in their bodes, comparing purses and new outfits. I feel safe and at ease with these people; a strange mix of unrelated families. The tang of the lemon square brings water to my mouth as I watch the reflection of the setting sun in the church's steeple.