Fallout (Crank 3)

like Christmas. Thanks, Santa,

for the best gift ever.

DESPITE HER MOM STARING

I pull Nikki into my arms, kiss

her like we don’t have an audience.

Then I notice the bags her mom

holds. “Let me take those for you.”

I peek inside. Eggnog and brandy.

This could prove an interesting

afternoon. I lead the ladies into

the kitchen. “Look who’s here!”

It is a busy place. Mom slices

turkey. Leigh mashes potatoes.

Misty spoons cranberry sauce,

trying not to trip over Sasha,

who sits, tail wagging at

the prospect of some off

ered

tidbit. David obliges, slipping

her bits of roasted poultry skin.

Autumn and Summer have

tag-teamed the table setting.

Nikki and her mom see what

they can do to help. It might

be a scene right out of a Norman

Rockwell painting. Except,

of course, it isn’t. It can’t be.

Because this is our family.

Autumn

DINNER IS READY