One

Two

Three

People bustle around my home. Every single greeting is accompanied by a hug and a kiss on the cheek. A tray of cookies barely makes it through the door before it’s being passed around.

Four

Five

Six

Shouts come from the other room as I lead the newcomers to where the rest of the group has spilled chips and dip. I cringe internally, knowing I’ll be the one to clean it up later.

Seven

The warm smell of seasoned meat and crinkle of chip bags stirs in the kitchen as we pile around the small counter space to dress our walking tacos. Sweet churros are gone as they’re set out. Punch splashes on the floor, dice roll, and shouts ring across the table as the Dungeon Master tries to be heard through the chatter (she fails). Snide commentary is quickly overshadowed by laughter and even the shyest of us cracks a few jokes when he feels like teasing some poor soul.

It’s loud.

It’s messy.

It’s all I’ve wanted for the longest time.