It's late

I know.  It's late.  For me.  To be here.  Upstairs in the PM instead of the earliest of AMs like my norm.  But all is quiet.  The lights are out.  The kitchen is as back to order as I will attempt to take care of it for now and I somehow wandered upstairs after everyone left.
What a great day.  A holiday.  Easter Sunday.  Which I started much the same way I am ending it.  Quietly, here.  While it is dark outside. 
The boys came over.  And Selma and the boys...the little boys and the big boys.  We cooked.  Fresh pasta with veal and chicken parmigiana both.  Earlier it was fresh pesto and ciabatta.  Crisp and flavorful.  Wine, red...Pinot Noir, Sangiovese Di Tuscana, Chiati, Merlot....Prosecco.  We don't skimp.  On the wine or the food.  It's family but no.  No.  It's all fresh, fresh, homemade.  I have pictures but not now.
It's about all of it.  All together.  Having much but not too much.  Having enough and lot's of it the best.  That's the way we do it.  We don't know another way. 
And I get this precious slice of time.  Late.  For me.  To be here.  After all of lot's of the best.
TT
Happy Easter.