“Everything that happened?” The words emerge of their own volition; I have no idea what Aunt Chana is talking about
Aunt Chana has invited me over for the evening. It’s a change from Bubby’s house, that’s for sure. And Aunt Chana serves beer-braised meatballs, wild rice, and zoodles for supper, a refreshing break from Bubby’s usual rotation of chicken and rice or fish and potatoes.
“A family supper, an experience, right?” Aunt Chana laughs as she sets the table.
I smile back, but it’s not really funny. It’s sad.
One of my cousins walks in, tossing her bag at the foot of the stairs.
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