Chapter 10 - THE NEW TABLE
Six months later. Christmas night.
My house was filled with the warm, rich scent of roasted chicken, garlic butter, and fresh cinnamon apple pie. Soft jazz Christmas carols played from the kitchen speakers.
Our dining room table was set for six.
At the head of the table sat Nana, looking radiant in a bright red sweater, laughing as Cole showed her a newly assembled Lego starship. Nora sat beside her, proudly showing Nana a drawing she had made for school—a picture of our house with a big yellow sun and four people drawn inside: Nora, Cole, me, and Nana.
Sitting across from us was my friend Sarah, my nurse manager from the hospital, along with her teenage son, who had joined us for dinner after Sarah’s long ER shift ended.
There was no card table in the corner.
There were no assigned seats based on favoritism.
There were no empty plates taken away to feed preferred children.
When I brought the main platter out from the kitchen and set it in the center of the table, Cole looked up at me with his big, clear brown eyes.
"Mom?" he asked, pointing at the roasted chicken. "Who gets to eat first?"
I walked over, leaned down, and kissed the top of his head, pulling his chair in closer to the table.
"Everyone eats together in this house, baby," I smiled, looking around the room at the people who truly loved and respected us. "Nobody gets what's left."
Nana raised her glass of sparkling apple cider, her hand perfectly steady, her eyes shining with quiet, triumphant tears.
"To real family," Nana said, her voice clear and strong. "The ones who choose love over power."
We clinked our glasses together.
May you like
Outside, the winter snow fell softly against the windowpane, cold and quiet. But inside my home, around a table where everyone was welcomed, fed, and valued, it was finally warm.
THE END
