Couples bunco

I've been part of a neighborhood bunco group, started by friend Jackie, for more than six years. 

2008 version of our group

Twelve women meet in someone's home once a month. We visit, eat dinner and then roll dice. Winners and the biggest losers take home prizes.

It's been a wonderful way to turn neighbors into friends. (In fact, this circle of friends was integral in supporting our family while Steve was ill and while we mourned his death.)

December is always couples bunco. Husbands come along for the feast and stay to play, with spouses alternating turns at the table.

Steve loved couples bunco. He loved visiting with neighbors and being silly and working hard to roll three sixes.

I no longer love couples bunco, in the same way that I don't love parties at which I'm the only one without a significant other. Steve was definitely the more social member of this marriage. He thrived on interaction with lots of people, whereas I'm often exhausted by it. (In Myers-Briggs lingo, he was an E and I am an I.)

But I don't dread it this year like I did in 2009. I really am happy to go and visit and eat and roll some dice.

As I was pushing Cooper toward bed tonight, I told him that bunco is tomorrow night.

"Is it couples bunco?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"Oh, Mommy, I'm sorry."

"Why? I'm looking forward to it."

"Well, 'cause you know, Daddy. You don't have Daddy to go with you."

At this moment I was thinking of how sensitive my 10-year-old son is. And then ...

"I mean, everyone else will be hugging all the time and you won't have anyone to hug."

At this moment I burst into laughter, imagining what Cooper must think couples bunco is all about.

Steve would have laughed, too.