The Crave

“That’s not how we did it back in my day,” mumbles your uncle who still drives a 1978 Saab. You’re prepared for this: not everyone likes or understands change and some do their very most to prevent it from happening.

You refill his glass while gently flooding him with stats and facts to show him why “back in the day” might not have been better — firmly assuring that the change is necessary. You choose your words carefully; not using negatives when describing the old days. You look around and catch a pair of looks of mild confusion. Not because your speech is unclear or incomprehensible but because of an internal conflict. See, some of the dinner guests have heard of a similar thing happening to their friends or seen it on television but when it’s happening in front of them, they get uncomfortable.

You know that it’ll take some time and they’ll get the hang of it eventually. I mean, once these individuals have processed the information, they may even become advocates of you two. You look at them with encouragement, silently letting them know that it’s okay. Take your time. An excited stare tickles your temple. On the opposite side of the table, you have your support team, the cheerleaders that literally can’t wait to get to know him. They think what you’re doing is cool and inspiring and they rush to you with advice, ideas, and movie recommendations appropriate to the occasion.

You smile through the overwhelm and promise that they can be involved in follow-up conversations over pink, sugary cocktails. Under the table, you squeeze his hand a little tighter. And then there are the newest additions to the family, oh, the empty canvases. Absorbent like sponges with so little resistance. You need to bite your tongue not to greedily turn them into your minions. This genuine curiosity toward the new acquaintance puts your mind at ease. You smile and sigh. There’s hope.