Growing up I heard a lot about Southern Hospitality. My aunts and uncles, grandparents and neighbors all gave tribute to the term. I don't remember a time ever driving up to someone's back door and feeling a cold reception upon entering. Instead, the doors swung open wide, the host and/or hostess of the house stood, framed by the door. "Y'all made it," they'd say.
|Dennis and our guest, Kenneth Jefferies, do some fishing|
Or, "Come on in before the mosquitoes take you away."
There was always plenty to eat. Plenty of sweet iced tea to drink. Loads of conversation and laughter.
But there was something else, too. There was the feeling that you (the guest) actually belonged there. You were not a visitor. An un-welcomed interruption in a sea of busy days. Instead, your host/ess had anticipated your arrival. Washed the linens. Fluffed the towels. Made certain your favorite "this" or "that" was in the fridge. And when it was time to leave, there was a let-down of the heart."So sorry to see you go," they'd say.
Or, "Wish y'all didn't have to leave so soon."
|Dinner out with our friends|
They meant it, too.
We've just said goodbye to our friends LeeAnn and Kenneth. I feel sad. But I'm excited that--maybe because of our Southern hospitality--they said they'd come back.
We're already looking forward to it.