I awoke in a tangle of limbs. I sat up, removing my cousin’s arm from my waist and glanced around the basement room, doing a quiet count of how many cousins were still sleeping in our makeshift bed. I shook those who still sleeping. We had moments before our little cousins arrived.

The littles joined us, screeching. Erin and Sophie launched themselves into our arms, and we twirled them. Aunt Cheryl began pulling recipes from the cabinet, ignoring loose papers spilling onto the floor.

With Christmas carols blaring, Elsa and I took over making the cinnamon bread, a Nieces Weekend tradition. Sophie was enlisted to stir and she teetered precariously on the step stool placed near the counter. And with questions of “is this a teaspoon?” and “where did you put the salt?” we managed to combine the needed ingredients.

Together, Sophie and I held the bowl over the bread pan, letting it slowly drip. We stopped when the pan was filled halfway.

Elsa and I let Sophie sprinkle the cinnamon mixture, while we filled the second one. Sophie continued sprinkling and then divvied out the rest of the mixture. Elsa and I finished dividing the batter, and then it was time to put the bread in the oven.

We filled the waiting with crafts never attempted at home. Nieces Weekend was the time to love each other, and a time to let Aunt Cheryl be a girl again.

Every year, we love filling her house with the joy of nieces. And every year we love to once again put our skills to the test, baking wonderful treats for the Christmas to come.