The Big Family Dinner

The dining room buzzed like a happy beehive. Ten children, a whirlwind of elbows, chatter, and the clatter of forks, surrounded the long table. Sandra and Mary, their moms, moved like graceful dancers amidst the delightful chaos, refilling water glasses, cutting up stubborn broccoli, and answering a hundred questions at once. Alice, perched between Frank and Peace, felt a familiar knot tighten in her stomach. It wasn't the food, which smelled delicious – roasted chicken with herbs and fluffy mashed potatoes – it was the way her moms’ eyes seemed to land everywhere but on her for more than a fleeting second.

Olivia, two seats down, was animatedly describing a drawing she’d made, her hands flying as she spoke. Sandra chuckled, her attention momentarily captured. Mary was helping Lambert find his napkin, which had mysteriously migrated under his chair. Alice watched them, a tiny ache blooming in her chest. It felt like Mom’s love was a pie, and with so many slices to go around, hers was bound to be the smallest.

“Alice, honey, eat your chicken,” Sandra said, her voice warm but distant, as she passed the platter. Alice nodded, her fork hovering over a piece of chicken. She wanted to be special, to have one of those full, lingering looks that Sandra gave Olivia when she talked about her art. She wanted to be the reason for a shared smile, not just another mouth to feed.