By Faith Ellestad

Ok, I’ll host the party, I guess, it is my turn

I put it off for many years,
Well, now I’ll feel the burn.

Memories of gath’rings past come flooding back in waves
A spicy mix of relatives,
Perhaps I’m not that brave.

Conversations swirling, center, left and right,
Oh, I don’t want to stir the flames,
 I’ll just keep out of sight.

Actually, I’ll have to.  I’m making finger food
It’s all hors d’oeuvres and crudites
With booze to lift the mood.   (at least mine)

Tiny teeny weenies with spicy mustard dip
Deviled eggs and homemade guac
Enough for every chip.

The salmon’s smoked and ready in its silver serving dish
Shit! Only half the salmon’s there
I forgot. My cats love fish.

Cheese and sausage platters, olives green and black
Naked shrimp with zesty sauce
This party’s right on track.

Plates on every surface, a wine stain in that chair
Huh. Chocolate on the lampshade
Now how did that get there?

Someone’s double dipping. I hope he’s in good health
Another’s sneaking cookies
Clearly practiced in her stealth

Thank God! the party’s winding down. There’s nothing left to eat
The locusts, they descended
And now are most replete.

I hope I’ve greeted all the guests. Too busy to remember
I must at least have said hello
They’ve been here since September.

Have some coffee, time to go, I’ll text that recipe
Drive carefully, and peace and love
You mean the world to me!

© 2025 Faith Ellestad

Faith has been writing to amuse her family since she was old enough to print letters to her grandparents.  Now retired, she has taken the opportunity to sort through family memorabilia, discovering a wellspring of tales begging to be told, which she hopes to expand upon in written form (where appropriate, of course!).   She and her husband live in Madison, Wisconsin. They are the parents of two great sons and a loving daughter-in-law, and recently expanded their family to include Thistle and Bramble, two irrepressible young felines.