Lunch with a Loved One

You can hang your jackets beside mine,” Derion said excitedly. It was “Lunch With a Loved One” at my grandson’s first grade class, a day I had eagerly anticipated, knowing that our family circle would grow even stronger.

“You want to see the tarantula? And here’s the science corner with the shark jaw.” Auntie Rochelle snapped a picture while baby Cherise smiled at everyone.

“Here’s my desk,” Derion exclaimed. “I’ll get you chairs.” Rochelle and I grinned as we settled in them, our knees close to our ears.

As we ate our sandwiches, we thought about how mom, dad, and four-year-old sister had enjoyed being “loved ones” earlier in the month.

I gazed at adults sitting on the floor, surrounded by a huddle of children. People with white hair chatted to the teacher. “That’s Mel’s uncle who’s sharing cookies,” Derion explained, “and the lady with the cheese pizza is Shanna’s babysitter.” “Lunch With a Loved One”—what a brilliant idea. Not “A Meal With Mom and Dad.” Mom or dad might not be able to take time off work, but loved ones were present in abundance on that February day. “Hey, Derion, have you showed them your stuff?” the boy in the adjoining desk asked. He, unlike the rest of the children, was sitting alone.

“Do you want to see my ruler?” Rochelle and I nodded enthusiastically. We admired his ruler and expected to see workbooks and pencils, too, but Derion was focused elsewhere. “This is Harley,” he explained. “He is my friend. Oh, here comes the lady with the camera!” I knew about the fundraiser and planned to purchase a photo so we could remember this special family day. I scooped up the baby, put my arm around Derion, and leaned close to Rochelle so that the four of us would easily fit into the picture.

“Hey, Harley,” said Derion, “your grandma isn’t here today. Come be in the picture with us!” We moved closer. The circle of love expanded: Derion, grandma, sister, aunt, and friend. This was definitely “Lunch With Loved Ones.” I was blessed to participate that one day in February, but Derion, with his ability to include others, has lunch with loved ones every day.

Denise Dick Herr