Anticipating the sweet sugar cookie smell that awaits at my Grandparent’s house, my stomach turns as I approach the turn. Parking my car in front of their house after turning up the long narrow gravel road, I step outside and feel a chilly little breeze biting at my cheeks.
As I inhale deeply, the delightful scent of burning cedar permeates my senses. Glancing at the chimney, I observe how the gray smoke disperses upon encountering the still winter air. Closing the car door behind me, I proceed along the sidewalk towards the rear entrance. Unlocking the door, I am immediately greeted with a child-like grin displayed across my face. Before I can even remove my shoes, my grandmother warmly welcomes me with her customary greeting. Returning her smile, I inquire about her recent activities. However, I realize that there is no need to ask as the enticing aroma of freshly baked bread drifting from the oven is already apparent.
I get up and head to the kitchen while her pug, Mack, excitedly jumps up and tries to lick my hand. My grandma follows me and starts making some hot tea. I sit on the counter, reminiscing about the treasured Christmas memories of baking cookies with my grandma in that very kitchen. Once the tea is ready, we both go back to the dining room where I sit at the table, eagerly listening to my grandma’s recount of her day. She shares the news that she and grandpa successfully set up the Christmas tree with all its ornaments, and that after lunch, grandpa plans to hang up all the icicle lights outside.
I place my tea on the table and head to the living room to see the tree. With a flick of a switch, she turns on the lights and the tree illuminates, resembling the one at Rockefeller Center. Upon closer inspection, I spot a few ornaments I had gifted her during my childhood. Eventually, I manage to retract my charred hand. While my cousin always doubted this incident, he acknowledged that if it did occur, it was a fitting revenge for taking him to play with the horses.
Upon returning indoors, we are pleased to discover that grandma has prepared some hot tea for us. We sit in the living room and eagerly watch the conclusion of the Bronco game. Once it ends, I realize it is time to begin my journey back home. While passing through the living room, my attention is captured by the Christmas tree. Despite it still being early December, I am already filled with excitement for Christmas. Embracing my grandparents tightly, I bid them farewell and exit through the door. Slowly driving away, I continuously steal glances at their house through my rearview mirror. The thought of coming back to this place that feels like a second home tomorrow cannot come soon enough.
