“Did I ever tell you the story of—“ Aunt Theresa said.

My belly tighten. It was the big game day. I was lugging my trays of pretzel bites and sweet mustard to the already crowded dining room table. Rose rolled her eyes at my store bought offering. I gave her a fuck off raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, Auntie Terry, we know, we know. Lil hand me those friggin’ napkins,” Rose said.

I shoved a towering stack of red Silos at Rose and tucked my pretzel trays between the caesar salad and the pigs in a blanket. With her third wine glass, Aunt Theresa circled the table of snacks hungrily. She nudged the foiled covered tray of deviled eggs. Mom materialized from the kitchen with a steaming crockpot of meatballs. Basil and garlic, the dining room steamed and grew spicy. Mom glared at Aunt Theresa who snatched away her fingers from the foil.

“The story of when Nina and I, remember Nina, that time we went to Gimbal’s—“ Aunt Theresa said.

“Terry, God, again with with the story. Rose who left those friggin’ napkins in the middle of the table,” Mom said.

Mom hoisted the crockpot in pride of place over the middle of the crowded table. Cousin Gigi’s ambrosia protested. Rose shifted desserts aside. I grabbed up the napkins and Aunt Evelyn’s crudités.

"Mom, Mom, there’s no room in the middle. Mom, let’s set up a the card table or something in the corner by the plugs, Mom,” I said.

“Went to Gimbal’s to get slips and we’re chatting away, we’re just chatting,” Theresa said flapping her hands around.

"Terry, we know, we know. Somebody move that potato salad. This crockpot is heavy,” Mom said.

Rose dived under the table to plug in the crockpot into one of the Christmas extension cords snaking beneath the dining table. Arms wide balancing Aunt Theresa’s supermarket potato salad on one hand and the crudités on the other. I asked Mom what do I with the food with the shrugging my shoulders.

"We’re just chatting away about the slips, the silks and the satins, when I realized I’m talking to my own reflection.” Aunt Theresa wheezed out laughter. Wiping her moist hands on her apron, Mom sighed and took Aunt Theresa’s potato salad.

"Set that vegetable tray on the coffee table and nobody wants this shit.” Mom headed back to the kitchen to bury the potato salad in the back of the fridge.

Cheers erupted from the living room as the game begins. The sounds of my brothers wrestling bounced around the house. Rose emerged from beneath the table.

“Mommy!” One of her kids screamed.

“Sammy!” Rose shouted back.

Rose headed out. Benji ran in grabbing a handful of pretzel bites and stuffed them into his mouth. I paddled his bottom as he giggled away.

Aunt Theresa freed a deviled egg from the tin foil. She smiled around that first bite. We shared a smile and I headed into the living room with the baby carrots.

"My own reflection and me talking away. I had the best time,” Aunt Theresa said to the tray of eggs.