The Tori Trilogy by Alicia Danielle Voss-Guillén

Author:Alicia Danielle Voss-Guillén [Voss-Guillén, Alicia Danielle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Price World Publishing, LLC
Published: 2012-05-17T16:00:00+00:00

Epilogue

Outside, it’s cold and windy, with an on-again, off-again gray drizzle falling from the sky, and the trees are bare and black, and the grass is dried-up and dead-looking, and all the fall leaves have been raked up and bagged. But inside, it is warm and cheerful, with wonderful smells floating out of the kitchen and throughout the whole house.

One of my favorite things about living in a modernized farmhouse is that there is plenty of room for parties and family gatherings. All of the relatives are here from Dad’s side, except for Uncle Javi’s family, who live in California.

Abuelita is in the kitchen with Mom and Dad and Auntie Luz, putting the finishing touches on our Thanksgiving dinner. Uncle Gabe is chasing little Sofie around the living room. Abuelito is deep in conversation with Auntie Crista and her husband, Uncle Kevin, who are visiting from Ohio. My oldest brother Andrew and his very-pregnant wife Stephanie are chatting with Ben in the front entryway. Nate and Joey are watching a football game on TV with Auntie Crista’s seventeen-year-old twins, Michael and Jeff. And Gina and I are in the dining room, filling the glasses at everyone’s places with apple cider.

The dining-room table is spread with a burgundy tablecloth and accented by pale-yellow candles in Mom’s crystal candlesticks and matching pale-yellow napkins origami-folded to look like Thanksgiving turkeys (guess who did that?). There is a relish tray on the table, loaded with olives and pickles and carrot sticks, and a fresh pat of butter in the butter dish. Soon the rest of our feast will fill in the empty spaces--turkey and sweet potatoes and Hawaiian rolls and papas a la huancaina and more! My stomach growls at the thought.

“Done!” I say after filling the last glass. I screw the lid onto the almost-empty cider jug and carry it back to the kitchen, Gina right behind me.

“I am so hungry!” she cries, holding the refrigerator door open for me.

“Me, too.” I set the cider jug on a shelf inside, then swing the door closed and lean back against it.

“Hang in there,” says Dad from the kitchen table where he’s carving the turkey. “It’s almost time to eat.”

Abuelita winks at Gina and me. “Would you girls like a papa a la huancaina?” she asks with a twinkle in her eye. “Just one. It will be our little secret.” Of course, it isn’t a secret at all, with Mom and Dad and Auntie Luz right there, and Abuelita knows it, but we play along, each scooping a slice of boiled potato and cheese sauce out of the pan and onto a plate.

“Thanks, Abuelita!” we cry at the same time. I pull open the silverware drawer and grab two forks. Gina and I dig in.

At last, it is time to eat, and the whole family gathers in the big dining room. Auntie Luz puts Sofie in her highchair, and then we all join hands around the table while Abuelito asks the Thanksgiving blessing.

When he is

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