Family Dinners in Charlottesville

I am currently sitting at the Nostrana bar in Portland, sipping a glass of Pinot Noir Brut Rose and eating a Caesar salad. Caesar salads have always been an oxymoron to me because in theory they are healthy, but in reality, they are simply cheese, croutons and cream based dressing disguised as healthy by a few pieces of lettuce. Fret not, my main course of wood grilled pizza is not even disguising itself as healthy.

I was convicted the other day. My blog often becomes a means to reflect on the goodness of family and channel my longing for home. I do not, however, often thank the people in Charlottesville for enriching my life so deeply. Perhaps that is because if I were to go through that list, it would take an immensely long time, whereas my family is limited. Still large, but limited. Regardless, this is no excuse. Since I am dining at the moment, I think it only appropriate to begin with family dinners.

I met Armin the day I moved into my Park Street apartment. More appropriately, my mother met Armin. Of course, she quickly discovered his country of origin, occupation, length of stay in Charlottesville, and even acquiesced his help in moving some furniture into the apartment. I remained skeptical. After all, he was a man, and in my limited experience, males in their mid-twenties are rarely looking for female comrades unless they are bringing something else to the table. Over time and as the smells of his cooking prowess wafted into my apartment from a couple doors down, I began to trust him.* Then, he introduced me to the family.

We played charades at my first family dinner, and though I was with strangers, I felt comfortable. That’s the thing about the family – newcomers are always welcome. There are no airs or pretentions - just a hodge-podge group, wanting to rock life and have a good time while doing so. They are honest, real, and at times, a bit crazy.

I met them at a time when I desperately needed close friends. I was working through career and other relationship questions, blatantly wondering why I was in Charlottesville. And they were there.

Years later, they still are. The women are strong and supportive, driving me to push myself in my career and never settle when it comes to men. I respect each of them for their personal drive and consistent effort to build and maintain relationships with others. I am blessed to have been a recipient. They are constant voices of sarcasm, reason, encouragement and humor. Plus, they love wine and dancing.

The men - they are ridiculous. But they are always there, whether it is a night out, a home cooked meal, or carrying your mattress up six flights of stairs.

As I finish my meal with a sophisticated spot of cheese and half glass of Prosecco, I am thankful that when I return to Charlottesville, they will be there. Though we shall not scour the downtown mall as we did during days of old, they will always be at my C-ville core. They brought an entirely refreshing and joyful light to my life away from family, enabling me to make Charlottesville a home. For that, I am incredibly grateful.

*Let’s be honest, the way to all hearts is through the stomach.