A Christmas Lesson
... the windshields of passing cars, and the scent of pine needles filling our house as the tree is dragged through the front door. And while I enjoyed the Christmas holiday, I now anticipate something surprisingly original, the smell of fresh baked cookies that tends to linger in the air long after they've been baked. My mother always performed the traditional Christmas ritual of baking candy cane cookies that resembled candy canes with their twisted red and white dough and sprinkled with crushed candy canes. She also made Christmas wreath cookies, using crispy corn flakes and green food coloring, and topped with "red-hots." While my mother continued to carry out the traditional cookie baking process, my sister and I played Christmas carols and Mom sang along with the words from our best-loved holiday tunes. Sometimes, I just closed my eyes and breathed in the aroma and listened to the sounds of Christmas, all the while waiting until we could decorate the tree. Nothing in my life has ever been as beautiful to me as dancing white lights wrapped around branches of a pine-scented, ornament-decorated Christmas tree. Our tree was always decorated with red and gold beads, wrapped loosely around the tree branches, and outdated ornaments that my sister and I had made when we were younger. The newer red and gold ornaments reflected the twinkling white lights, while wooden elves climbed motionlessly up a tiny ladder that leans against the tree. Resting atop the tree was a tattered Santa Claus our mom and dad bought for their first Christmas together. That loving bond is something my parents instilled within me, pointing out the importance of closeness within our family. We shared in the festivities as well as in the quiet, solemn meaning my family held about the holiday. My sister and I helped our mom and dad with the baking and the decorating, activities that provided us with time to talk after what had sometimes been weeks of absen...