Food 4 Thought

"- A dish unseen is a plate half full."

As the intricate beams of daylight filter through the glass panes, casting it’s piercing rays upon a man tethered to the prime of his life, Wendell Beavers. A classy gentleman adorned in tasteful plaid duds, sits at his dining room table around loved ones. Surrounding the space, each of the four walls are set with clusters of vibrant red balloons. Friends and relatives alike fill this place with social harmony creating an almost ethereal ambiance. After all, it's not every day, one turns thirty five! And they chose to live it up big! Despite the joyous clamor surrounding his birthday, Wendell secretly felt a profound sense of loneliness within himself. Though he was among loved ones and friends, he couldn't shake the feeling of being alienated amidst the crowd. Desperate for at least an ounce of solace, regardless if it was genuine or not, Wendell tried to find comfort in the presence of his family, who were blissfully unaware of the impending hardships that awaited him. They simply assumed his career as a Police Officer became overwhelming. And made him less talkative. But, as time progressed, Wendell's reluctance grew increasingly evident. And burdensome to the more chatty houseguests.

As he sluggishly engaged in the festivities, his actions felt more and more detached. No matter how upbeat the party guests were, there campy attitude only served to remind Wendell of a greater ordeal circulating in the furthest regions of his mind. He often greeted them with a limb, disinterested handshake, or an awkward side hug that most people tend to do when they don't particularly know someone. Soon, his peculiar behavior raised suspicion from his eldest son Isaac and his wife. “Dad!” Isaac exclaimed. “It’s your birthday. Lighten up!” He runs to his father, patting his back in attempt to liven his mood. Wendell gazed straight back at him, forcing a wry, deceitful grin. “Why Isaac, I'm ecstatic.” He said, sarcastically. Issacs's wife, Cara then comes out of the kitchen brandishing a steaming hot pan! It's musk is utterly intoxicating. All partygoers at this instant, immediately cease their mingling as the scents permeates their senses. Wendell catches whiff of that succulent aroma. His taste buds dare, his eyes glare, and even his nostrils flare up like a rabbit sniffing for greens! Frankly, this food is darn good, regardless of whether you are hungry or not, makes your stomach growl. Because all those folks who nibbled on horderves came rushing towards the dinner table, prompt to eat!

“Happy Date of Birth, Mr. Beavers.” Cara says excited as she places the pan on the table and removed the tinfoil wrap.

And now, Wendell sullen state vanishes! For it is time to grub!

“Isaac!!?" He asks, fuming with anticipation. "Is-Isn’t this–.”

"Yessireee, bop! It's Lasagna, Dad!!" Pretending as if he has just cracked one helluva joke, Isaac inserted both hands into his shorts and rocks his head in a bobble head-like fashion. Yes... Wendell’s son is quite the square.

         “This looks divine! Who made it?"

"Duh! Cara did, Dad!"

       "Well, if you don't mind. I'm gonna go ahead and dig in!" Said Wendell as he plunged his fork deep into it's cheesy surface. But, his fork misses it's mark! It got all cheese and no meat. "Dad, you good." Isaac asks. "Y-Yes, I'm-I'm good." He then covers one eye and takes a proper serving. It's so scrumptious, the dish literally moves Wendell to tears! After taking three to four, to FIVE forkfuls, Wendell reckoned they’ve been around long enough for him to ask real questions. And perhaps allude to some real solutions. Looking dead at his son, he enquires: “Where’s Elaine?”

           Uh-oh! Taboo! Cara quickly responds in favor of Isaac to prevent any sudden conflict. For she knows this topic is extraordinarily sensitive. "Mom? She’s working!" Cara goes on as if he didn’t get the message. As she takes a bite of her lasagna and boasts at how delicious it is. Everyone else follows suit and are equally taken aback. "Cara?" Inquires Wendell.

"Ooh it's so goood!" She says taking another bite.

"Cara, please!" Wendell urges.

"Compliments to the chef... me!"

Cara!!" Wendell looses his patience.

"Dad! Don't yell at her. Relax."

"Sorry, I just need to know why my spouse of fifteen years couldn't spare the tiniest kindest to attend my birthday."

"Dad... she's not here. But she did say happy birthday."

"Don't lie, son."

"Alright I'm sorry. But Dad, seriously what do you think? You two didn't exactly have a pleasant split. Bad things were said on both ends. Stuff that either side can't forget. So... now you just gotta deal with it." Isaac then takes a second helping of the lasagna. "Jesus Christ, this really is amazing. Oh my god!"

"Isn't it! I put extra sauce." Cara revealed.

"No kidding!" Shouted Isaac.

Around the table, a symphony of "Mmhs" and "yum" and "Oh, that's it, right there!" reverberate, each person applauding Cara's culinary expertise. On the other hand, an almost vociferous annoyance envelops Wendell as he watches his friends gratitude eclipsing his input. For years he had felt he hadn't been listened too regarding his ordeal and this was the straw that broke the camels back! Wendell drops his fork and regains the somber attitude he held before. "Dad, what's the matter now!?"

"Son. Do you know why I called you."

"Well yeah, you wanted to celebrate your birthday."

"Isaac. When have I ever "celebrated" birthdays in this manner?"

He stops stuffing his face and glares upon his fathers strained expression. "What do you mean Dad?"

"Isaac. I don't even like parties!"

One party guests interjects: "Whaddya mean, Wendell? We shared a dorms for freshman year."

"Sir--!" Wendell scoffed. "I don't even know your name."

"So, why invite all our friends and us?" Isaac Inquired.

"Son." Wendell says reaching for his hand. "I won't have another chance." He retracts his arm away from Wendell. And the room goes silent! "Mr. Beavers, are you moving?" Cara asks, trying her best to remain optimistic.

"Dad, stop joking around. You're not gonna die!"

"I said nothing about dying, son."

Wendell stands up are removes his glasses. "You see, my... my vision has been declining for the past decade. And now it's gotten to a point that my... my glasses are becoming obsolete."

"Dear God." Cara says, covering her mouth in shock.

"I called you all here today, so we can share a meal and so I can look at you one final time before--" Wendell starts breaking down. Rubbing his tears away profusely. "Dad, Dad!" Isaac hollers rushing to hug him. "This is hard son. There's nothing worse than living life without the ability to live." Wendell whined. "You're still here, Dad!"

Then, in a beautiful display of unity, the party guest rise from their chairs and converge upon Wendell, enveloping him in a collective outpouring of love and compassion.

"Dad--" Isaac says handing Wendell his glasses. "Don't feel bad."

"I don't feel bad. I'm mad! I can never enjoy things anymore."

"You still can, Mr. Beavers." Cara reasons.

"Not the same! I'll be a burden."

"No you won't dad. We're here for you."

"Y-You don't have to--"

Isaac embraces Wendell in a warming embrace.

"I want to be."