A Lunch for 6 | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: A Lunch for 6 | Previous Challenge Entry
By Lizzy Ainsworth
07/25/12
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“Would you like to come and have lunch with us tomorrow? Aunty Suzy, my younger sister and her husband, Uncle John are travelling through from Townsville and I thought it might be nice for you to meet them, so you have met all the aunts and uncles, since you met the rest at your wedding.” Aunty Robyn had asked me, and I had nodded and agreed to bring a quiche, not that I liked them, they were just easy to make and something I knew wouldn’t turn out disastrous. She said that there would be about 6 of us for lunch, at her place. I marked the time on my busy little calendar; I had collected events, like one collects leaves in autumn, for nearly every date on my calendar for two months in advance in my new job as a youth pastor at the church Robyn and Allen pastored.

The little lunch arrangement was fine until my husband came home that afternoon and told me that the lunch had been postponed until the next evening because they would arrive later than expected, but what puzzled me was the fact that the meal had been moved to the cold cavernous kitchen in the church. I wasn’t sure whether that was quite the right information and rang up to check, but sure enough it was.

The next afternoon I walked into my sunny little kitchen and discovered with horror that I had forgotten to put the quiche in the oven! Oh bother, it was still sitting on the bench where I had made it hours earlier. I stuffed it in the oven, reefing the knob around to the designated temperature and hoped that it would cook quickly because not only were we now going to run late, we were going to need to walk the 5 blocks to the church because our car was in the garage having its brakes repaired.

An hour later I pulled it out of the oven, wrapped it in a towel and dropped it in a bag, pulling on my shoes and running out the door into the chilly night with my husband close behind. Puffing we marched up the hill, around the corner, along another block to the intersection, across the road and ran the last block to the big brick church building.

I walked in the door to meet face to face with chaotic bedlam. Aunts and their children and their children ran around the big building in every direction, balls flying and tricycles pedalling. One cousin paused to wave from where she was scraping up her lasagne on the concrete where it had landed when she tripped on the step.

There were not six of us like I had been told, the number seemed closer to 36. How could you round up 30 extra relatives in one afternoon to come and say hi to the travelling couple from Townsville? The logistics were rather mind boggling, and where were the guests of honour anyway? Oh, they were in the church op-shop; I sunk down in a corner with a magazine, and sighed, I would wait for them to reappear. . .

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