We Said Goodbye Twenty Minutes Ago.

The coats are on.

The bags have been collected. Someone has checked that they have their keys.

We have thanked everyone, exchanged kisses and announced that we really must leave.

Naturally, this is when the best conversation of the evening begins.

Someone remembers a detail.

“Wait. Did I tell you what happened afterwards?”

No. Apparently, they did not.

Now we need to hear it.

There is something wonderfully optimistic about believing that standing up means a gathering is over.

Standing up can simply mean that the conversation is moving to a less comfortable location.

The doorway, for example.

A place where six people can discuss something that apparently could not be mentioned during three hours at a table.

One person holds the door. Another remembers that it is cold outside. Someone suggests going back in, but we refuse because we are leaving.

We have been leaving for twelve minutes.

Then comes the photograph.

Of course we need one.

Someone’s coat comes off again. A bag goes back on a chair. We discover that the person taking the picture should also be in it.

Leaving now requires coordination.😂

I have a particular affection for these prolonged departures.

Sometimes everyone is having such a good time that nobody quite wants to be the person who ends it. The evening has reached that easy stage where the conversation no longer needs arranging.

Then somebody says something that starts everyone laughing again.

And suddenly, being sensible about the time becomes difficult.

Eventually, we do reach the car.

Windows are lowered for one final exchange.

“Message me when you get home.”

“I will.”

“And remind me to tell you about—”

Please.

We may need to take our coats off again.

For another occasion when keeping a straight face becomes unexpectedly difficult, read “Please Don’t Make Me Laugh. This Is Serious.”

Silvia