My cup runneth over and over and over

The season's first asparagus fresh from the garden, orioles singing as fire pinks bloom, grilled bratwurst with homemade pickle relish, oohs and aahs around the table when the poached pears and caramel sauce hit the tastebuds, extra dishes to wash and extra hands to help.

Young people singing in the shower at both ends of the house and then posing in tuxes and formals in front of the blooming redbud tree, the girls looking like spring blossoms and the boys like James Bond. Shiny shoes, sequined gowns, bow ties and corsages, and a freshly cleaned car to receive them all.

Wonderful colleagues willing to host our department chair's retirement party, who open their house to a colorful crowd, stuffed mushrooms, bruschetta, a chic sheep sheet cake, and a front porch ringing with interdisciplinary laughter.

A hint of Gregorian chant in the morning service, a houseguest who plays all the hymns with aplomb and, later, installs a new battery in the Nissan and even finds the short that has been draining the current. Big hugs all around as the travelers head back to college, big sighs as we sit and consider the silence--and finally, exhausted, an afternoon nap.