Over a plate of beans, our eyes met. His hair tousled from an afternoon nap. I felt the corner of my eyes knit together as I smiled. My husband, his plate full of beans before him was in heaven. On our way home from an afternoon of boating, swimming and napping we decided to go to an old fashioned “Comfort Food Church Supper.” Inside a long table held beans in crock pots, a macaroni and cheese casserole and salads. At the far end of the table were homemade yeast rolls tucked inside a linen towel. We sat at a round table draped with red checks and adorned with delicate yellow flowers. We ate; watching the church ladies pass a baby with big cheeks and a hearty cry from arm to arm. Others swiped the tables clean, bringing stacks of dirty dishes to the back kitchen. As I sipped a mug of coffee, I thought of how life orchestrates a great symphony of moments. Who knew Saturday night beans could hold such memories? We’ll be back in a month.