Of course, most of them stayed to share the bounty and seasonal cheer. I would emerge from my workroom exhausted to find a de facto party going on in my living room, so I finally resolved to attend the next one. The following year, invitations were in the mail by Thanksgiving. On Christmas Eve day we sat alone like nervous spiders in a new web-the house clean, the children dressed, the table groaning with food. Half convinced that an actual invitation had jinxed the chance of anyone showing up, we were surprised and delighted when the doorbell finally rang.
Some friends come every year, others every other year.
Some have never been able to attend. Some people just stop by for a minute on their way to the airport or family doings. Others come early and are still on hand to help us load the dishwasher at midnight. Families abound, and families expand. There are always three-generation groups and once in awhile, four generations.