Mom's ambrosia salad
The way Dad cuts the bird in methodical strips
Little brother finishing my sentences
Little sister arising from the sweet spot on the couch
(she knows it is my birthright)
As he nestles in the crook of my knee
Safe, content, grateful.
Wrapping this family in a cocoon
Nostalgia fills the silent spaces in the room
The only talking comes
from our bellies, overflowing
with pumpkin pie and happiness.
Somehow we survived
the icy years
to arrive, intact,