I set the bowl on the low table.

Twelve small plates waited beside it.

We had invited people who understood that an invitation was enough; nobody needed to arrive early to rearrange the house or decide how the morning should proceed.

The weather had given us a mild spell.

Sunlight reached the grass beneath the fence, and I had put the children’s jackets within reach for when the air cooled.

There was no schedule we needed to satisfy beyond the rhythm of two children who could be delighted by wrapping paper and defeated by a missing nap.