Its on a chilly December morning that I walk into my Grandmas kitchen. I don’t know how many days I’ve been here, but I know I don’t have to go home until after Christmas. Classic country is playing gently in the background. I wonder silently if that radio ever gets turned off. Grandma is sitting at her computer desk playing her PC crossword game. I can smell the cigarette burning between her fingers.
Today we plan to make Christmas sugar cookies. Just one batch today, we will make another when the rest of the family gets here. I see that Grandma has most of the ingredients out on the counter already. She prepared everything before I woke up. I grab myself a chair and push it to the counter so I can help. We get started right away. I know I could make this recipe all by myself, if my arm was stronger. I mix and mix until it gets sore. I spilled a little from the bowl but my Grandmas quick hands sweep it up and throw it back in. Then she takes over with the mixing. We have been chatting since I came upstairs. Our conversations are never very significant. We just like to talk. We explore topics everywhere from her childhood to my future. My Grandma knows more about me than anyone else.
Once our dough is finished, we take it to the table and roll it out. I like to do the rolling. “don’t roll it too thin now, that should be enough” she reminds me. She brings me some cookie cutters. Grandma takes each tray to the oven and sets the timer. We make the perfect team. Once the last cookie is cut we begin to clean up. She loads the dishwasher and I wash the table and counters. I busy myself with a craft while my Grandma takes a nap. We mix up some icing and decorate a few dozen cookies that afternoon. Its still early, so I put on my winter clothes and go outside to play. I see my Grandpa sitting at his desk through the window if his shop. I wave to him. He waves back. I start to make a snowman. My Grandma, sitting on the deck with a cigarette, suggests that turn it towards Grandpas window. That way, he can look at it all winter. So I do just that. She helps me find a scarf and little stones to make a face.
Before I know it, its supper time. My Grandpa comes inside to eat with us. He wanders into the kitchen and I wrap my arms around him. “Well if it isn’t my favorite little red head, what did you girls do today?” he asks. I begin to tell him all about our day. Grandma reminds me to lower my voice since I tend to talk loud and fast when I get excited. My Grandpa is a very brilliant but sometimes grumpy old man. He doesn’t like noise. He listens intently as he lowers himself into his spot at the table. Grandma sets a hot bowl of cabbage rolls in front of him and turns around to warm up mine. Once we are all seated, we begin to eat. The cabbage rolls are very hot, but they taste magnificent. Grandpa thanks me for the snowman and compliments my work. “You are very creative, just like your Grandma”. I see them smile at each other.
Supper is over now and my Grandma asks me to get our dessert. I go to the counter and pick three cookies from the Tupperware container. Two of them are iced; mine is the biggest, and one is plain. Grandpa doesn’t like icing on his sugar cookies so we always leave one tray plain for him. I devour my sugar cookie and ask if I may have another. My Grandma smiles. “How you stay so small, I will never know”. I take that as a yes and grab myself one more.
As my grandma tucks me into bed that night, I close my eyes and reflect, on a perfect day.
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