The Imaginary Dinner Party

In mid-March, New Mexico's governor wisely shut down the state. The COVID-19 pandemic was raging in China and Italy. Scenes from overwhelmed hospitals in New York filled the nightly news. It seemed unreal and too real at the same time. 

 We had been to dinner with friends the just evening before, one of my few social outings in the four months since I had broken my leg. I was still wearing the orthopedic boot but managing to maneuver better all the time. Then it was over. We stayed home, avoiding our friends and neighbors. Grocery shopping became risky business. My husband wore a bandana to forage at the local stores until I could score some homemade masks on Nextdoor, the neighborhood app. 

We were fine, we made great meals and indulged in some of our better wines. We signed up for online photography classes. By late April when I began my Santa Fe Workshop class, Homescapes, I was out of the boot. For our assignment, "What is your home for you?" I created several images representing comfort and protection, but it was the thought of what our home had been missing that that seemed the most poignant. 

 Having friends and family gathered around our dinner table is one of the things I cherish most about my life with my husband. Always the gracious host, he keeps wine glasses filled and conversation moving. For my part, I cook and set the table in the belief that a beautiful table and good food will let our guests know how much we value them. 

Missing invitees, I set the table for an imaginary dinner party. My best French linens, Imari china, the good silver, right down to the butter spreaders, fresh tulips and candles.  My husband opened a bottle of Central Coast Pinot Noir and helped me with the tripod. The chairs in the background were empty, yet I was convinced that if I could capture the scene with my camera, I could conjure up an evening reminiscent of the many wonderful gatherings we had had around our table.  Although later we dined alone, our friends were there in spirit.