This this week I read the same passage in Proust and thought about it. The father gives permission and the son is taken aback. Are all sons prodigal?
Reminds me of an old old joke: Who regretted it most when the prodigal son returned home?
The fatted calf.
Meeting friends for lunch, then getting ready for a dinner party chez Odette. Nothing fancy. Steaks on the grill, Hasselback potatoes, salad and my own invention of a dessert which involves Pillsbury piecrust from the dairy case and fresh fruit and a little sugar. Sometimes the best food is the simplest. Not pineapple and truffles. Sheeesh!