Thank the Wind
From mum whose little boy didn't get party invites.
The wind blew the invite under the door.
I was supposed to get one of those metal draught excluders fitted before winter came, but fate instead brought me this instead.
“Jude’s 13th birthday. Bring a dish.”
13. Unlucky for some. Well, lucky for them, I happen to be free.
Walking down the street, the invites were everywhere. Including screwed up in the bin. A lot were in the bin. I may have liberated a few and found them new homes.
Well, the whole neighbourhood’s invited now. And my neighbours and grandkids fancy going too.
Everyone’s talking about it. Planning who has what to make the party extra special, coordinating what dish they will bring. Marco’s bringing a full game consol set up and portable screen. We are all going to be playing Mario Party apparently. No idea what it entails, but sounds fun. There’s even a WhatsApp group. I got my party bag down from the loft, decorations for all occasions. Haven’t had to use it in a while, but it’s kept for situations just like this.
We got there early, just in case anything needed to be done. There is always so much to do at parties. We walk in, the hall is empty, aside from the mum, birthday boy and two siblings sat at a table. She looks at me confused, I show her the invite and give her a hug. I give the party boy his present.
I set down my party bag, unzip it, and set to work. The banners go up and the chairs come out.
‘Don’t worry about more tables, I’m sure there won’t be the need,’ the mum adds. I smile back at the mum and wink.
My grandkids arrive with the balloons. We set up a serving table and put the first few dishes out. And we are ready to go, just in the nick of time. Perfect.
Quickly, the hall fills with adults and children. It’s loud with laughter and chatter, and the table’s crammed with dishes. The birthday boy is ecstatic. He doesn’t know anyone here, neither does his mum, but it doesn’t matter. Everyone here has become friends now, that’s what partiers are for. It has made everyone’s day.
Standing at the side, watching the party unfold, the mum doesn’t know what to make of it all. I bring her a drink. Her eyes well up, ‘I can’t tell you how to thank you.’
‘Thank the wind, it blew us all here.’