Far from Faultless

The funny thing is, they live on the Northern Neck.

And yet when I suggested lunch at Merroir, my parents, despite decades on the river, said they hadn't been.

Road trip.

So they drove one way and we drove another to meet in Topping at the home of Rappahannock River Oyster Company.

I'll be honest, it was my third time in five weeks.

My name is Karen and I'm an oysterholic.

So on a flawless August afternoon, I enjoyed lunch with my parents at a table riverside.

Three kinds of oysters, lamb sliders with spicy mustard mayo and celery/onion slaw and a foot-long lamb dog with onions sauteed in mustard.

Over a bottle of Wimmer Gruner Veltliner, I became the target, enjoying all kinds of well-intentioned (and very funny) jabs about myself.

Let's just say my Dad is still telling the story of why he should never have let me play kickball in the street.

I was eight at the time.

Naturally, I was ribbed about my track record.

And faults.

"One?" he said with great hilarity.

I may have even been called an idiot.

And four hours later when I left, replete and calmed by a post-lunch hour sitting on the dock, I felt lucky to have such great role models.

As a friend wrote to me just today after gushing about missing me, "I know that was corny but it just felt right."

Must be all that salt air. Besides, Mom and Dad never mind corny.