Sure, am glad we only got the sun today. We had a terrible mix of rain and sun the last couple weeks. I haven’t been able to get the sheep out at all. That’s okay; they should have plenty of entertainment today. A bunch of people showed up.

“Well, sounds like a question for Eustice,” says Irene. “I don’t know much about what happens out here. I pick up when Eustice tells me that he’s done.”

“What’s that now?” My attention snaps back to the nearest sheep pen. I say, “Sorry, Irene, I was giving thanks for the sun today. Makes things bearable out here. I think the sheep themselves were shivering this week. At least their wool didn’t seem to do them any more good than my jacket did me. If we didn’t have the sun, today’s party would not have been fun.”

Irene’s eye roll draws a laugh from Randy. She says, “Randy wants to know why we decided on four big pens instead of more, narrower pens. He thinks we could have twice as many sheep. I told him that you handle all this.”

I take Randy down to the middle pen before explaining the choice to give the sheep more room in the barn. Then, I turn back to Irene. She points to the quilts by the door with some of her friends. I tell Randy that Irene does some amazing work with the wool.

The barn doors swing open revealing Samantha, our youngest. She announces that lunch has arrived. Those loitering in the fields rush past her to the table.

I clear my throat loud enough to grab everyone’s attention in the barn. I thank Claudia for her work on the lunch. She used mostly our vegetables with a couple of our sheep. I welcome everyone to our table in celebration of Irene and I’s twenty years together. I say, “May this just be us getting started.”

Our friends and family choose their seats down the table in the center of the barn. I join Irene at the head of the table with our children on either side. Silence descends on the table after the first bites of lunch.

Felicia cleans the plate of her sheep. She comments, “Well, you’ve certainly done great with the sheep, Eustice. That was amazing.”

Before I can credit Claudia, Irene says, “He better have. He had to make up for those goats, am I right?”

I hear the whole table inhale before a different quiet comes to the table. Irene’s eyes dart around the table. She chuckles before saying, “Yep, that was a complete mess, but he fixed it – he fixed it.”

With a grin, I say, “Boy, that surely was a challenge, but you and I soldiered through. And, I appreciate you sticking it out.”

Irene shakes her head with rapid blinks. She says, “A challenge? Those goats ate the entire yield from the previous year and everything in the fields. I couldn’t do anything for two years. And, we were so close to getting rid of all the debts.”

“Yeah, they certainly set us back, Irene. However, we recovered; the cops are in full force, and you’ve triumphed with the quitting. We’ve reached new heights now.”

Irene shrugs, so conversations break out down the table. Folk tell their stories of their own lives and favorite memories of us. Food disappears while conversation flows. Even the sheep go back to moving around their pens.

Irene finishes her meal and says, “Well, the sheep are doing great, but those goats were a real mess.”

Eyes flash to watches and cell phones. I swallow hard before pursing my lips. After a long inhale, I say, “We’ve overcome that, so let’s celebrate that win. We’ve come a long way together. Let’s see if our friends want to talk about that.”

“Well, yeah – I guess we can do that now. Still, only because things were that bad then. And, it was completely preventable too.”

I raise an eyebrow in her direction. Jack, our oldest, jerks his head toward the store of soybeans. Samantha follows his lead, and they disappear into the barn. A couple friends take the hint too.

Irene continues, “If nothing else, we didn’t even need the animals. We could’ve stuck with the plants. I was doing just fine cooking what you grew. You were growing, and I was selling jars of things. I thought things were going as best as they ever could.”

“Well, Irene, we had to do something for fertilizer. Got to put back what you takeout. Besides, I fixed that mistake, okay?”

The exodus begins. Our single friends break out their cellphones. The glow from those things down the table looks like lightening bugs in the yard. Our friends find an immediate other place to be. Other parents look at their watches; I suppose the time on those babysitters is running out. Wives grab their purses, and husbands put their jackets on. Their conversations never rise above a whisper. All of them find the straw on the floor most interesting as they leave. No one even shakes my hand; though, I do get a nod from a couple of folks and one pat on the back.

Irene picks at her lunch. No carrot leaves the plate; they only sail around like a kid’s sailboat on a pond. She says nothing to anyone passing her. Irene doesn’t look at them – just keeps moving her carrots. At last, she pushes her half-eaten meal back from her.

I shake my head with a smirk.  “I guess the celebration is done, huh?” I ask before rising from the table.

Irene nods, grabbing the plates in front of her. I walk to the far end and start stacking the chairs. I feel the pinpricks even from here. While I do my best simply to focus on the task. She clears the whole table before leaving the barn. So, I take a seat in the last chair with my eyes fixed on the barn door.

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