To my right: an accordion (& trumpet...& cow bells!).
To my left: a young man with autism named Odin.
The seating was communal, the meal was German.
Odin and his mom were about the business of building happy memories in the wake of deep and recent loss.
Odin said to us “Something terrible happened to my grandpa- he passed away.”
With Odin there was no pretense, when he needed salt, that’s all he needed and he sought it out with determination. When he thought the candles would be fun to blow out, he blew them out. We smiled and wished we could be that free, too. Sharing a meal with O was an extra scoop of joy.
Odin’s mom is made of strong stuff, yet she remains uncalloused. She leaves any excuse to be overwhelmed on the table and instead invests in the lives of her son and many others.
Jannik was our golden waiter. From a foreign land and eager to fill our cups, he was more than hospitable, he was truly kind. Employing Odin as his sidekick in the quest of lighting (and re-lighting) the dining room candles, he was neither put-out nor patronizing.
And there we were, as a family, celebrating a milestone that shouldn’t exist, (if statistics were given the last word).
Thankfully, Mercy and Grace reach further.
At some point it dawned on me that I’d been treated to a real-life misfit meal...set to accordion music, no less.
So you guys...you were all there, too, in my smile and the delight of it all.
I share with you now a picture of that table and some of the music (where Odin makes a quick cameo appearance)
PS- I am growing a tad concerned that I’ve fallen and bumped my head or somehow slipped into an alternate Hansen-esque Utopia: I was just informed that a marching band checked into our hotel today
