The Invasion

I am sitting on the couch in my living room because someone has stolen the chair at my desk. On the coffee table before me sits a pencil case with a Leichtenstein-like illustration of a woman who exclaims, “Oh God, I’m so bloody blonde sometimes!”

The chair thief is my daughter’s friend. It is lunch time and about 1/2 an hour ago the buzzer rang. I was ironing my sheets. Naked. Don’t ask me why, it is beyond even me. So I throw on some jeans, the boyfriend’s t-shirt and head downstairs to open the door, where three loud, giggly teens await. I can’t put a single name to the faces, but I do know that they are part of E’s social circle. I am momentarily shocked by the decible they emit before realizing two more are fast on their heels, coming up the 7 flights to our front door and even more are in the lobby waiting for the elevator to complete its round trip. I welcome them, wishing them a bonjour before inquiring, “I imagine E will be joining you, or is this a hostile take over?” Laughter.

Giggles and joy. I so love having this in my home. The girls trooped in, some pasta, sauce and cookies came flowing from their bags as they asked for pots and pans. They proceeded to cook their lunch, set the table and chat among themselves. No smooshed-up sandwiches coming from beat up lunch boxes for this crowd. Ze Freench can cook! The conversation was a unique blend of French and English and focused primarily on homework,  study for the upcoming midterm exams and how to combat jetlag. I imagine that it would have turned to gossip and boys had I not been so close.

Someone announced, “We have to go soon,” and there was another flourish of activity as the table was cleared, the dishes were put into the machine, pots scrubbed and the invaders headed out for their next conquest…

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s