This afternoon, my brother texted my immediate family with some good news, and my mom replied to him that it called for a fat celebration for he and his wife. She gave him an encouraging word, and then in an immediate followup text to just me and my dad, she said “I’ll fix supper for us three.”

Mid-afternoon, I asked if I could bring anything, and she said no. She thought she had everything for the meal.

When I got off from work at 5, I launched out of my garage to head for my folks’ home, and about halfway there, I noticed that the clouds above were kind of tattered and wispy, and that there was a chance the setting sun might blast its red rays across the space under the long flat cloud blanket sitting over the valley.

I forgot my destination for a minute and stopped at Hoffmantown Church to visit the little park on the property’s west side, which overlooks the city.

And in a short time, the sun did its thing, as expected, in its mysterious and glorious way.

Camera in hand, I spent 20 minutes snapping photos and watching the sky and earth around me change hues, until last light from the departed sun glowed on the horizon.

And I remembered I had a dinner to go to.

I returned to my truck, threw it in gear, and headed back on the way to my folks’ house.

When I arrived, it was life as usual.

“I knew it was you- I heard my phone chime”, my Mom said as she opened the front door. The Ring app on her phone was working. Yes, she had looked out and seen the red sky- it looked like an amazing sunset. My dad sat at the kitchen table with a little of the the main entree on his plate. The kitchen table was amply covered with a dish of a chicken-penne-nacho cheese casserole that my mom likes to make (and that we like to eat), and plates, salad bowls, cutlery, napkins, a bag of salad, and every dressing bottle from the fridge. On a countertop in some plasticware was a pile of big warm biscuits.

My mom asked what I’d like to drink. She would serve you and serve you and serve you until she collapsed from neglect if she could. “Just water is great.”

I sit and start putting some penne yum on my plate, and my dad hands me a bottle of water from the little fridge by the table, and then he takes some salad, and my mom grabs the biscuits and takes one for her and then gives me one, and then soon we are all sitting and eating and talking.

And I am starving, because despite what I make at home, it is never as good as what I eat when I am at their house, and I always eat too much, because I have to.

We talk about the day, and I eat my penne yum and then eat the biscuit with grape jelly in it and then take some salad and eat it while we talk about the day, about the weather, about possible snow, and then about the NBA and the Spurs and the Bulls and about family and texts and I take some more penne yum and eat it all again and then I take another biscuit and feed it grape jelly before I eat it, and then it is also gone, and then we just talk more, each of us now full and satisfied.

My mom asks us if we want some cake.

I tell her the meal was delicious. Oh, anything is good when you are hungry. But I am always hungry when I come over here, because it’s always good.

My immodest modest mama.

I tell her it was delicious several other times before I leave, because tonight it was an especially tasty meal.

I help clear the table, and then go to a room in the back of the house to help my dad with a few computer things, and my stomach is full, and my heart is even fuller.

I fix one computer issue and find we’ll need to deal with another at another time, and my dad and I talk a little in his study where the computer is about a coming garage sale and taxes and just trying to get some things taken care of.

We will, dad. I need to get some stuff out of my house at that sale too, and understand your desire for doing it sooner than later.

They have a Spurs basketball game pending, so I say I will go, and thank them again for a fine meal and a fine time. They thank me for helping them and coming over.

My mom has a bag loaded up for me with some leftover penne yum in a container for another meal soon. The bag also has some barley soup in it for me to at at another meal- and a bag of chocolate covered popcorn.

Always giving. Excessively so.

As I head for the front door, I tell my dad I’d order a few things for him online, and at the door, my mom tells me to not let the wind blow me away. Watch me go out, mom, to make sure I make it all the way to my truck.

The blanket of cloud from earlier now hangs low over the city, and from under it wispy arms of winter curl down toward the earth. A cool breeze whips around and by me.

Love you- talk to you soon! Enjoy the game!

I leave, happy about my brother’s good news on the day, and for the chance to enjoy a lovely sunset, but mostly, for being able to go to my mom and dad’s house for a meal.

My mom would say the food was simple and easy to prepare. And yet, the opportunity for me to share it with them remains utterly comforting to me.

Just supper.