Christmas Memories

Christmas Eve was takeout fried fish, garlic on toothpicks,

and presents opened on our grandparents' hardwood floors.

We looked for red lights in the sky on the drive home,

trying to spot Santa's sleigh with Rudolph leading his journey.

In stubbornly unzipped coats, we scurried up snowy stairs and

through the back door to the kitchen to prepare our offering.

One by one, we carefully selected cookies to leave by the tree,

sharing our favorites after days of watching them bake,

snagging them from their cooling racks as taste-testers.

Crumbs and full stockings would be left by morning.

Looking back, I can't recall a single gift opened

as Mom took pictures between sips of coffee,

but I remember my sisters hoarding the prettiest bows

and the wrapping paper wars that followed.