To Aunt Annie’s House We Will Go

I, along with ten of my family members, visited my Great Aunt Annie in Howell, New Jersey yesterday. We stood outside her house until she opened the door.

She greeted us each with a hug…

…except Eric. She grabbed his hands and said, “Let me look at you, son”. Is Aunt Annie really Eric’s mother? I thought.

The table was set with bread, butter, salad dressings, salt/pepper, and utensils lined up neatly in a parallel fashion.

We posed for a group photo. Floating white-lettered holograms identified each person’s relationship to me.

My Aunts and mother were entranced by the hand painted ceramic lady-statues. “Look at that one,” Aunt Sissie pointed.

The food came out.

Uncle Jimmy pinched my shoulder. I smiled through the pain.

Eric did his pre-food “Awkward Hunger Robot” dance…

…then laughed manically.

Emily and Danny played that game where you have to, without looking, guess if the other person reached the crease of your elbow.

Danny lost.

The food was delicious. I stuffed myself to capacity. I fell into a food coma. I awoke with amnesia. I felt like Peter Gallagher’s character, Peter Callaghan, from the Romantic Comedy, While You Were Sleeping.

On the way home, we stopped at Ralph’s Italian Ices. The gourmet ice shoppe originated in Staten Island, where I’m from. I spelt the word “shoppe” with two “p”s and an “e” to make it fancier.
I gained back my memory and ordered a “Twister” with Chocolate Cream Ice and soft Vanilla Ice Cream. My sister got the same thing with Butterscotch Ice. Here are our fraternal deserts.

The ice cream melted quickly.
It was a good day. I am going to write a children’s book based on this day called, “To Aunt Annie’s House We Will Go”.

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