It's Christmas, The Memories keep coming written by Bambi Lynn

As I am making cookies today, I am brought back to some very warm memories of my grandma during the Christmas season. I am in the kitchen making my favorite Christmas cookies. We call them meatball cookies but others call them something different. They look like a meatball but, full of chocolate chips and raisins and nuts. You would then frost them with a coffee chocolate frosting. My grandma made the same cookies every year and all of us couldn't wait for the season of Christmas at grandma's house. There would be thumbprints with her best jam or jelly that she would make in the summer season during her canning episodes, where everything was canned for the coming winter. She made cutout cookies. All my uncles came home for those special shaped Christmas cookies. I remember my grandma using cream of tartar but, they say, no. But it doesn't even matter, they were the best. She made a white Christmas cookie that had anise in it. Those weren't my favorite. But for years in my house, I would make them because my grandma did. She made a church door fudge. using the colored marshmallows. When you cut the fudge into squares you would see the colored marshmallows. That is why they had the name church door fudge. I had all my grandma's recipes, until I was moving and accidently had all of them in a box that was picked up by Goodwill. I hope whoever had that box, that they cherish those recipes and realize they were recipes that have been passed down to the next generation. I deeply miss those recipes as they were handwritten by my grandma, who passed away twenty-two years ago on Christmas day.

The day after Thanksgiving, we were not allowed at my grandparents' house. That weekend was when they created their house into a Christmas wonderland. They spent the whole weekend putting the everyday stuff away and putting up the magic of Christmas. My cousins and myself along with my brothers and sister couldn't wait till Monday, when we could walk through grandma's house and look at the magic of Christmas. When the "elf on the Shelf" wasn't a thing, it was at my grandmas. She has a bowl of candy and if we found him, we could have a piece of candy. Every day after school, we would run to grandmas and search for the elf. My grandma had a beautiful tree that was in the little room where the front door was. She also had a porcelain manger scene. They seemed life size to a little girl like me.I wish sometimes that there was a time capsule that I could go back and walk my grandma's house at Christmas, to softly touch each decoration and reminisce Christmas was magical and had an innocent to it.Those times seem so far gone but so close in my memory.

My aunts and uncles didn't always come for Christmas. but there always was a bit more celebration preparation. I have realized now as a mom of adult children that moments with them cause for a little more of a special touch. My uncles got their own batch of cookies and really great food. They also were able to sit in the dining room. For most of my life the dining room was off limits to the grandchildren. We could sit in the kitchen or on the stairs but never with the grownups or with my grandma's red China. I didn't mind the stairs because that is where we dreamed of walking down the staircase and meeting our husbands to be at my grandma's fireplace. The cousins would act goofy on the stairs, laughing at silly jokes and sneaking to hear what the adults were talking about. By the time I could sit at the table my grandma's house was sold and they moved away. The anticipation of that grown up thing never took place, and it just leaves a lasting memory of the dreams on my grandma's stairs.

Everything was so different when my uncles came into town. My family wasn't always invited over when they were in town. We were told we had to stay at home while my mom went over to visit. We lived across the street. but it always did feel weird that we weren't allowed over. But on Christmas the uncles bought us a family game for each family. We got the game Monopoly one year. I remember thinking it was cool getting a gift from our aunts and uncles. My Uncle Timmy was the youngest and looking back, he was the favorite too. I remember he liked to pick on us. He would also want all of us to rub his back. When we didn't want to, he offered us .50 cents. We took it but didn't understand that it made us rub his back longer than we wanted too. Puts a smile on my face now as I recall that memory. I loved the laughter all around the Livingroom at Christmas. We never wanted it to end or hear those awful words, "Time for you kids to go home" as my mom got to stay longer. I hated having to get my boots and jackets on. I wanted to be important a little longer. I wanted each one of my aunts and uncles to see we were craving attention. I wanted them to look at us and see something was wrong. I wanted the love that they gave to us on Christmas. Each one had their own families, and their families seemed happy. I wanted the magic of Christmas to keep my aunts and uncles around for a little longer. I wanted our cousins to see us and to play with us. I always felt like a misfit because they had so much more than us. I think they knew it but really couldn't comprehend the hunger we had for something that stood out, that we were special. I hated seeing them leave because they didn't come back often never often enough.

It could be a cookie, an ornament, a story, a song, or just a scent that comes only at Christmas time. Something will always bring you back to that moment when life seemed magical. The snow would fall just the right way to give us the snow globe effect, where everything was a wonderland, The carolers would never make a mistake as they knocked on your door to sing "I wish you a Merry Christmas" The special drinks came out at Christmas and hot chocolate would have marshmallows and warm your hands as you walk around looking in your neighbors windows to see their tree sparkling with twinkling lights. You would sit around the tree as your mom or dad read a new Christmas story for the new season. A different one every year. "Happy Birthday baby Jesus" would be said before presents could be opened and a birthday cake with a candle; to remind us it was Jesus' birthday not ours. We could eat all day and not have to ask for a glass of pop because it was the one time during the year, we could eat and drink until our stomach aches. Christmas was a magical time of year,

As I finish up my meatball cookies. I say, "thank you" for the moments in life that feel magical, and nothing can ever take that away. It's Christmas the best time of year