All You Can Eat

I spent a long weekend with my family back in Colorado this past weekend. I flew out there with my younger brother, and while we were waiting in the airport, I decided to get a little dinner. I bought a sandwich and some cole slaw. I had a big Coke to drink. I kept trying to get my brother to get something to eat, since I knew that our flight offered only a bag of peanuts and some Cheese Nips. He refused to bow to my older brother pressure. He had a Coke and a smile.
"I know I'm going to be eating solid for the next three days," he told me.
He was exactly right. Even though we arrived at my mother's house near midnight, we were still obliged to sample the homemade chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar. And some of the jelly beans in the bowl on the coffee table. And we noticed the twelve-pack of Coke in the pantry. My little brother was right.
We did spend the weekend drinking and eating. Not just at my mother's house, but at a number of favorite cafes and restaurants around my hometown. On our last night there, we went to the newest location of the Italian restaurant that we had been going to for more than forty years. I had a plate of spaghetti, and was pleased to find out that there were free refills. I was equally pleased to relieve my son of his extra meatball. I ate until I felt just a little uncomfortable.
I have a reputation among my family and friends. They call me "The Thresher." I will continue to eat what's in front of me until it's gone, and then look around the table to see what's left on other people's plates. But this was different.
I was not just eating the food. I was filling up on family and my hometown too. I wanted to be able to carry as much of that weekend home with me as I could. The next morning as I was starting to pack up, it wasn't just my belly, but my heart was full as well. Before we left, my younger brother and I ate almost all the chocolate chip cookies. We left a few for my older brother who couldn't be there. After all, why should we have all the fun?