"Oh look, Constance, its snowing!" I exclaimed. It was Saturday morning, and you couldn't see out of the window for the white gale. I loved winter. It was my favorite season. So white and fragile. I couldn't wait to get out there.
"Silly Merricat, of course it's snowing!" Constance exclaimed. "It is winter, after all."
"But it's a special snow, Constance."
"And why would that be, Merricat?"
"Because it's a Saturday, and Saturday is my favorite day, and it's winter, and winter is my favorite season," I rambled on, "and you know why else?"
"Why else, Merricat?" Constance asked good-humorously.
"Because Christmas is coming!"
Christmas is my favorite time of year, with its decorations and good food. Not like Constance's cooking was bad usually, no, it was very good. But Christmas food is the best. The pies, apple, mince, pumpkin, among others are delicious. I can smell them now, the spicy aroma of nutmeg and cinnamon, the smell of freshly peeled apples, and the rich odor of the mince meat. Constance always cooks just enough pies so we are all stuffed, but we don't need to throw anything away. I don't know how she does it. The cookies are my favorite. Oh the variety of cookies! Anisole, cream cheese, pecan, peanut butter, chocolate, no-bakes, and, of course, gingerbread.
Gingerbread cookies are among the best food ever. Constance and I make a gingerbread house every year, with gingerbread people, and even a gingerbread cat (Jonas insists). We decorate the roof with frostings and mints and the path with licorice sticks, as well as cinnamon hard candy for windows and a wafer for a door. It looks so good at the end we never eat it. No, it is displayed for Christmas, and New Years, and sometimes Valentines, then thrown away because it has gone bad. Constance always jokes about it, saying, "Never waste good food? I would hardly call that good food!" And we always laugh.
The turkey dinner on Christmas day is always the best. Constance stuffs the turkey with vegetables from her garden that she stored for the winter. It is always cooked to perfection, still moist, but with a crisp skin. Uncle Julian says it tastes just like mother's traditional turkey, which is a complement coming from him. Even Jonas loves it, I sneak him scraps under the table.
The Christmas tree always sits in the kitchen. We cut it down ourselves, Constance and I, from the pine forest behind the house. "This is the one, Constance," I say every year. "I feel this is the one. Even Jonas agrees, don't you Jonas?" Then Constance replies, "Of course it is, silly Merricat. Shall we cut it down?" And I cut it down with the saw dad always used, still in perfect condition. Dragging the tree back to the house is always the tough part. "If only we were on the moon," I always say. "There, the winged horses would lift the tree high up in the air, and drop it off right next to the house. Then we would have the purple mice drag it into the house for us. And then we would have a nice batch of moon cookies with Uncle Julian." "Of course we would Merricat." Constance replies. "But the horses and mice are busy, so we will have to drag it ourselves." We bring it in house, and stand it in the corner. Then there comes the accelerating task of decorating.
Uncle Julian helps us decorate the tree; Constance says it doesn't tire him out too much. He talks while he decorates, about the Christmas before the poisoning. He says it's very important to remember, even though it happened in July. "Is it really so important to your work, Uncle Julian?" I asked one year. "Of course it's important!" He snapped back. "Every detail is important; it was the last Christmas for so many of us. And Christmas is such an important occasion. I must remember every detail. Constance, my papers!" And we pulled him back to the tree. He worries so much about his work. He needs a break from it sometimes, which decorating does. All of our ornaments are gold, silver, or glass, very expensive. They are from when they were still alive. We found them in the attic, and always put them back where we found them. Constance and I decorate the top parts of the tree, while Uncle Julian gets the bottom. Constance always lets me put the star on the top. Jonas occupies himself with batting the ornaments we put on the tree off. Miraculously, none have been damaged by his antics. But we still scold him. He just looks at us with distaste, and stalks out, coming back only when he thinks we are not watching. He is such an odd cat.
The best part of decorating the tree, though, is when we put the candles in their little holders, and light them. They illuminate all of the ornaments, making the tree look as if it is on fire. The smell of pine is so prominent at that moment, mixed with the lights it makes it a magical moment.
Presents are a necessity at Christmas. We all make our gifts, since I am the only one who goes to the village, and I don't like spending more time than necessary there. I usually make something out of stuff I find in the woods. Last year I made Constance a basket from branches, Uncle Julian a clay pot, and Jonas a feather toy. Constance always knits me a pair of colorful mittens, as well as a sweater. Uncle Julian never makes anything himself, but Constance puts his name on the package with the mittens. We put them under the tree on Christmas Eve, so we need not move them when sweep away the fallen needles. The colorful wrappings accent the tree, so the room seems to glow with an amazing light that night. We always know what we are getting, as it is impossible to keep a secret in this house, but still act surprised when we open the gifts. And we are thankful for each other.
"Yes, dear Merricat, Christmas is coming." Constance smiled. "I can tell you're excited, so let's start the festivities today!"
"First I need to do something, Constance," I replied.
I walked out the door, into the biting cold. I took a deep breath, taking in the crisp smell of winter that burned your throat. The newly-fallen snow crunched under my feet as I walked towards the woods. Jonas appeared from nowhere, and followed me. He knew where I was going, and met me there. The river flowed sluggishly behind him, filled with slush. I cleared out an area near the river, and started to dig. It was hard, as the ground was frozen, but I managed to make a small indent. In that indent, I set a thread from the mittens Constance made me last year, unwound by Jonas. I covered it up, whispering secret words of good tidings as I did. Now nothing could come between us and a good Christmas. Feeling fulfillment, I turned around and headed back home. Constance was calling for me to come and help her get the spices from the cellar. I smiled. It was truly Christmas.