The house smelled of pine, bayberry and bacon. My mouth watered, anticipating the feast promised by our hostess.
My husband and I settled in on the sofa to enjoy our new Christmas tradition with his daughter’s blended family. Kelly’s fiancé and her two college-aged kids sat at the dining room table. Alfredo’s two grade-schoolers bounced around the room, along with Kelly’s littlest one, navigating through the assortment of friends and relatives, curled up cross-legged on the floor in the crowded living room.
“We’ll serve brunch after we open the gifts,” said our hostess, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
Perfect. My morning coffee and toast should hold me while we unwrap a few presents.
I got up to greet a late arrival and nearly tripped over the avalanche of gifts fanning out beneath the tree in a wide semi-circle.
How will we ever get through that landslide of ribbons and reindeer wrap?
The room began to spin. Visions of syrup soaked waffles danced in my head.