The December air drafts in from the open windows and mixes with the heat from the lingering fire slowly dying out. My stomach, full of ham, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, cake, cookies, and hot chocolate, lulls me to sleep—I’m way too full to do anything else. My eyes close as I snuggle into my sleeping bag.

I am the first one up—my cousins are all six and seven years older and as everyone knows teenagers like to sleep in. I sit with Cody, the fluffiest and friendliest dog anyone has ever met, and pet him quietly, waiting for my mom and my aunt to wake up. Thoughts ramble through my head about the task at hand.

After 40 minutes of watching the clock, tapping my foot, and trying to distract myself, my aunt and mother shuffle down the stairs rubbing their eyes and stretching their backs. When they see me perched on a kitchen stool, they giggle and embrace me, as they whisper-scream, “Merry Christmas!”

Now that they are finally awake, I want to make my favorite dish: split pea and ham soup. The bone had been sitting in the pot all night long from our Christmas Eve dinner, waiting to be crafted into leftovers.

Slowly, as we chopped, stirred, tasted and repeated, everyone in the house arose from beds, futons, couches, and the floor and filled the kitchen. With each waking member of my family, my excitement grew as present time approached.