It was bound to happen. As generous as my friends are, new tragedies, new needs, take the place of old ones. When my father died in August, people brought food, all the food. My freezer and pantry were full, and on many nights, I didn't even have to raid my own larder, because we would be invited out for dinner. Or I would decide to order in — who cares about the cost? — because I just wasn't ready to face reality.
The other day, I was included on a group email. Someone needed meals, someone else was organizing them, and I was asked to help. Right then, I knew it was time to get it together and get back in the kitchen.