We stand on the cream pavement, taking in the grandeur of the outstanding building standing before us. The gate alone is a sight to see; it sits heavy on its hinge; with intricate Slavic designs and pointy spikes; filling the entrance completely. It is nothing short of impressive. Surely an old factory from decades ago queues crimson bricks after crimson bricks. The building - three stories high; a facade eaten by glorious windows that left little place for the bricks to shine; three imposing chimneys erupting grey clouds of smoke that blend with the sky; gate overshadowed by an arch embedded into the structure; a greenhouse spreading up the two first floors - must’ve cost a fortune. A shiver runs through my body. It may be the sight or the crisp air kissing my naked arms, sharpening my sleepy senses, but I cannot care less, not with my brain short-circuiting.

Everything looks pristine, almost brand new. I have a hard time telling what is original to the building and what is not. I can take a guess, but the additions to the building blend seamlessly. The chimneys, window frames and gate’s green moss paint look freshly painted. The windows have not a speck of dust on them, it almost sparkles. 

I had heard, from my Mom - we exchanged monthly phone calls while I was away, she liked to keep me updated on what was going on back home, her way to make me feel a part of the family - that Rory bought a plot of land, and was restoring a building. Never in my wildest dreams, I thought she bought a mansion. I was expecting a cabin or a small farmhouse, not a palace.

Rory takes a brick - lighter than the other bricks - on the right side of the gate. She passes her hands through the hole and fiddles with something. The gates effectively open seconds later. A shrill sound of a mechanism in motion pierces my ears; the friction of chains follows the noise briefly. Slowly parting, making us simmer in our zeal to see what is on the other side. The gate makes way for us. 

My eyes undergo an overwhelming moment; without mental capacities, they have a Hell of a time taking everything in. Fairy lights serpent between the buildings and some intertwine with the bare trees, sprouting out of the tiles. In the far back, there is a wing between the West and East annex, with even larger iron doors than the ones we just passed.

Honey Bunch glances at me, nonchalantly, with a knowing smirk and a smidge of proudness once she sees my befuddled face. A ‘Welcome Home!’ banner hangs between the left and right annexes, surprising us. A small group shouts a greeting, averting my attention to them: my Mom; Rory’s grandmother; tall lanky boy with a tan complexion; girl with short brown, unruly hair sporting a baby on her hips; small girl with blond bob hair with bangs falling into her eyes; two dark skin, identical baby boys jumping up and down, shaking their curls; and one old, vicious man, whom I secretly hoped the zombies ate alive and I would never see again. 

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

My babies rush toward me, no longer able to wait. Their grandma and great-grandma admonish them loudly, but it falls on deaf ears. Sharing their enthusiasm, I open my arms. The twins jump into my embrace, joined by their sister, Annie. Sajan and Kelly, the two oldest, have enough common sense to walk. Kelly struggles with an excited Dae in her arms. The child is eager to reach my side and gives a hard time to the poor girl by moving around so much. I cradled their small body, crushing their bones; there is nothing like a bear hug. Soon enough, Dae bawls his lungs out when he sees Mommy isn’t paying attention to him.

“Ma… m-mama.” The two-year-old flails his arms at me, failing to understand that his sister securely holds him.

“You’ll get more hugs later, ok?” The three understand that my question is more of a statement and nod reluctantly. I kiss the top of their heads before getting on my feet. I gently pry Dae out of Kelly’s arms. She shoots me a grateful smile, that I return by pecking her forehead, as I am much aware of the wildness of her hair. 

Rocking the little boy in my arms, whispering sweet nothings to his ears, stroking his back, I gradually ease his outburst. I look at my companions. Don cuddles his mother, trying to console her heavy weeping. She had lost all hope of ever finding her son, and there he was, safe and maybe sound; God knows what he and his group went through. Said friends retreated away from the scene, awkwardly static and unsure how to proceed. 

 Rustling on my right brings my gaze to Grandpa Ming, caressing his braided beard. His eyes are closed and his warm smile - which can be rivalled with Dumbledores - lightens his otherwise strict expression. He didn’t move an inch and stayed where he was. Merely watching us. Finally, my gaze drifts to the toddler in my arms - his cries subdued, his head resting on my heart - now devoid of energy. His sporadic hiccups resonate in my ears.

“We should all go inside. It is quite cold,” Master says with his usual eloquence, walking towards the doors leading to the West wing, with hunched shoulders and a turtle’s pace.

We all trail behind. Only Don grumbles something, which I am sure was an offensive retort. Because of the weather, my cheeks and fingers feel like frozen meat. That is until I cross the doorstep and enter the toasty heaven. Mmm. Indeed, the warmth is soothing after the first unbearable seconds of pure ache. My body shivers a few times, trying to accommodate the new temperature. 

Whereas we braved the winter weather, the kids had put on woollen coats. Most likely the doing of Clover and or Marlaine. They busy themselves to take the coats off and hang them properly in the cloakroom on their own, mindful of my gaze. I rid the bundled baby of his beanie and fur coat, leaving his sweater tucked in his apricot overalls. Kelly takes the coat off my hands. Sajan and she claim their hugs while their younger siblings are still busy. With my arms full of Dae - who is observing everyone, happily sitting on my hipbone - I am limited in my movements, but I achieve to hug them both. Shortly, the trio emerges from the shoji doors and hurries to my side.

“Have you been good to Nonna and Granny?” I walk further into my house with a smile, basking in the familiarity of the vocal floor slats, the children hot on my tail. Rounding the corner to my right, I enter the kitchen, the room I thoughtfully designed - a room that took the longest. I considered everything, from the overall concept to the minor details. The artichoke cabinets and wood panels of the counters, with their vintage golden nobs I spent months searching for; I wanted them to match the faucet. Or the ash wood I imported for countertops and stools was a costly choice, considering the lunch counter stretching for fifteen feet, which divides the kitchen from the passageway, or the cooking station behind the latter. The windows, when sunny outside, let in an enormous amount of light. During those bright days, there was no need for the incandescent lights hanging from the human-size metal beams supporting the second floor. 

Home, sweet home!

I settle Dae on his throne, a high chair for toddlers, before taking a seat myself at the meal island. The kids and the others join me, some faster than others. Kelly drags Sajan into serving everyone a beverage. They make their way around the lunch island; Sajan disappears into the pantry on the left side of the kitchen, while Kelly takes a pot hanging above the oven; some milk and cups to serve the drink. She sets everything on the cooking island and goes about warming the stovetop of the old Kitchener behind the cooking station. 

“We were angels sent from heaven. We did everything on our list of tasks, respected the bedtime and didn’t throw any tantrums; right guys?” Annie’s chest puffs out brazenly and her brothers nod vigorously. My little ring leader has surely planned this all out. 

It’s moments like these that reassure and tell me I am not so bad at parenting. Happy, well-mannered and, most importantly, safe children.

Our recent additions to the group look around in wonder with their eyes bulging out of their socket and mouths agape. Their eyes go to the large kitchen to their right, diverting to the huge stairs leading into the said kitchen, then to the floor-to-ceiling windows on their left, and glancing at the entertainment slash reception area. They have only seen a fraction of the house, an even smaller percentage of the estate, and are blown away already. I cannot fathom what their reaction to the entirety of it will be. Don keeps his distance from Ming, steering Clover and Marlaine - who are hounding him with questions closer to the kids and me. His features distort into a stiff smile, painful to look at. I giggle, attracting his and the two women’s attention. 

“Really? Angels?” I ponder, looking at the women who babysat them with a raised brow.

“Angwelz! Mamma, good. Good!” Dae, on my right, attempts to do as his brethren do. He nods frantically with his chubby head and claps his hands. Seeing them after so long is healing. I can’t help but melt at their cuteness and want to shower them with hugs and kisses. 

“Oh, I know you were good Dae, you’re always an angel, baby. I have my doubts about you three mischiefs,” they either were on their best behaviour; or were rascals trying to bullshit me with their shit-eating grins; which is throwing me off.

“They were indeed on their best behaviour,” Marlaine provides, ruffling Annie’s hair, with a smile wrinkling her practically wrinkle-free skin. My eyes lie on Don, he has a mysterious glint in his eyes and a smile I can’t decipher.

“These three were eager for you to return. They missed you very much,” sitting on the right of Don, Clover leans over the counter to look at the children. 

“We miss Mom’s cooking,” Amir starts, then his brother picks up the rest of his sentence. “Yours and Granny’s food is nasty!” They both wince at the thought of it.

“Aren’t ya too young to have six kids?” Percy and the others had taken a seat at the counter while we were talking. The Master is not amongst them, so I look around for him.

“Did Master Ming go somewhere?”

“Who?”

“The old man,” Don bleats out before me.

“Oh. He said something about clearing his something-something, strengthening his mind and having no need for material substance yet?” Milo has a look of confusion as he scratches his head quizzically.

“He just went napping. Hopefully, he’ll die in his sleep.” 

“Donatello Ricci! Oh, Santo Cielo! [Oh, good Heavens!] I raise you better than this!” Clover whacks him in the head. I can’t help but beam at the familiar sight. Normalcy was refreshing after my recent adventures.

“Scusa, mamma.” 

His friends snicker at his sour face. “I never heard you speak Italian,” Amy points out.

“He only does when he gets scolded or extremely angry.” My statement brings me the wrath of D. After all, how could I engage in his public humiliation?

“Don’t think I forgot my question, Rory… what’s your last name again?” The man’s goofiness prompts me to grin.

“O’rdelles.” 

“Right. So what’s up with the kids?” My teens present everyone with a steaming cup of chocolate, saving me momentarily. The sugary scent wafts from the cups, permeating my nostrils and making me salivate in anticipation. Kelly hands me a baby cup filled with a warm version of our drink. Dae recognizes his cup immediately. He illustrates with his excited face and grabby hands that he is keen on getting his cocoa. 

“Is it good?” My baby greedily sucks on the straw, and after a long sip, nods his head ardently.

“Hell yeah, it’s so good! I can’t remember the last time I had hot chocolate,” Mira exclaims, her lips covered with the substance. “Oh, you were talking to the baby… hahaha!” No one paid attention to her embarrassment, too engrossed in their beverage.

“Hey, ya still…”

“I am glad you are enjoying it. Do you guys know what you want for tonight? Since it’s a special day, we should celebrate.”

Across the counter, his elbows rested on the counter, he held his drink in one hand; and when he heard the word ‘celebrate’, his entire posture straightened. “We’re having a feast?” I nod. “We can ask for anything?” Sajan’s eyes grow big with enthusiasm. 

“Within reason, but yes.” 

“What’s a feast?” Jamal asks. 

“It’s a unique occasion where we can eat a lot of food.” His older brother answers, happy to educate him.

“T-that’s not the def- definition of a-a feast…” The mute voice of Caspian bewilders our group.

“It isn’t? Then was is the definition?”

We watch the interaction in stillness. “Feast. Singular noun. Meaning: an elaborate and usually abundant meal often accompanied by a ceremony or entertainment.” I am glad that he came out of his shell a bit. I now have a good idea of how to befriend the shy boy. “T- there are o-other meanings… b-b-but in this i-instance, it’s the… the most fitting.”

“Well, thanks to you, this airhead will go to bed wiser.” My quip cracks a gentle laugh from Caspian and stickers from some others.

“Mom! I’m not dumb!”

“I didn’t say you were. But it wouldn’t harm you to spend more time in the library. Caspian, what would you like to eat tonight, honey?” All the attention he is getting makes him squirm in his seat. His brothers are sitting at his sides. He recedes further on the stool with his eyes fixed on his cocoa.

“A- anything will do.” 

“What’s your favourite food, then?” He mumbles something I can’t hear from where I am.

“He likes pizza,” Milo repeats louder, virtually rescuing his brother.

“Ok.” I get up and look in the first drawer to the left of the cooking island, snatching what I need to take the kids’ order; a notepad and a pen. “Pizza it is. And you, sweetie?” Akira meets my gaze. She has a perplexed look but says that she desires burgers if I could accommodate her. Before I even ask, the tweens say that they wanted fried chicken. Dae follows, shouting apple pie. Then Annie joins in. She requests fish and chips. Sajan asks for Japanese curry. Kelly grabs my pen and writes on my pad: ‘Nothing. What is on the menu is enough’. 

With straightforward tasks in mind, I choose my minions accordingly. Clover, Kelly, Marlaine and Sajan. I write my oldest son a list of ingredients I want him to get from the basement and send him on his way. Mira and Caspian offer to help, but I refuse firmly their proposition, insisting that they take it easy.

In no time, the kitchen is bustling with life and chatter. We are laughing, talking and enjoying each other’s company. The cooking team multitasks while the lounging team entertains the kid who bustles with pent-up energy. We joined in the lounging side conversations when our concentration allowed us to. 

Sajan’s job was short-lived - as soon as he brought back the ingredients to us - he was free to sit with the others. Marlaine picked up from where Sajan left off, and washed, peeled, cut and prepped the ingredients. Making Clover’s, Kelly’s and my job easier.