Brunch. Even the word gives me joy. It speaks of a sprawling spread on a relaxed weekend morning with people I love. Brunch might be my favorite meal, though life rarely allows time for it. Or is it that I rarely allow time for it?
Brunch is a simple luxury, like a vase of flowers and a fragrant soap. My idea of a good vacation is sleeping in (joy!) and then eating brunch (joy!) with a big pot of my favorite tea (joy!). After that, the vacation day can hold anything, from reading in a beach chair to a strenuous hike -- after brunch, I'm up for anything. We have a favorite hotel in Mexico where the restaurant patio lies four steps up from the beach. I can eat my brunch with my family, and then the kids -- always impatient for the beach -- can play in the sand while I watch indulgently from the patio. We're all happy.
I just returned from a Mother's Day brunch at the home of a church friend. It had no beach, no family, no pot of favorite tea. But it was just right too: good friends, new faces, scads of food. Ah, brunch!
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