“Yep,” my Uncle Andrew nodded. “And remember that time when you thought you were Tarzan and swung off the roof of the garage on Brown Street?”
“Yep,” Uncle Tony rubbed his right arm. “My arm still gets sore on rainy days.”
Grandpa smiled and they all began to laugh. I listened to their stories too as I leaned against the screen door.
“Dinner’s ready,” I announced.
Slowly they filed in and sat next to their wives. When we were all seated, Noni proudly carried out her platefuls of fish. She placed them on both sides of the massive oak table.
“That smells great, Ma” Uncle Chicky said as he rubbed his rough hands together.
Everyone else nodded in agreement.
“Mangia,” and she smiled.
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