I’ve been thinking a lot about hospitality, which means I’ve thought about it two or three times in the past week. Before visiting my friends in DC my mother asked where I would sleep. “On the couch,” I snorted. “Please, none of us have made it to guest room sized homes yet.” I hope and I pray that we all get there someday, if only because we’re all getting older and sleeping on futons and couches cannot go on indefinitely. Lacking a guest room, however, does not mean my friends are slouches in the hospitality department.
At the core, I think true hospitality is a tension between making a guest feel as if their visit is something special and welcoming that same guest into your life where you are. Hannah excels at this. No matter what, there are clean sheets and special snacks/meals. Each morning in DC, I was brought a fresh cup of coffee as I reclined on the couch checking instagram. Sorry for stealing all the coffee, James. Only I’m not sorry at all. At the same time, I jumped into their lives for a few brief days. I did a few dishes, helped with some dinner prep, and threatened to reorganize all the books on the bookshelf (there was no obvious organization of a wall of books)
I’m fortunate enough to get to return the favor in a few weeks when Hannah comes here to photograph a friend’s wedding. I’m already plotting things to do and see, but I’m the most excited for Hannah to see my creaky little apartment and walk the benighted streets of the Old North End of Colorado Springs.