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Chestnuts (standard:other, 542 words)
Author: IslandMouseAdded: Jan 01 2002Views/Reads: 3225/1Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A story about a young girl and her fondest memories about the Christmas season.
 



I twirled around the tile floor in my kitchen, waiting patiently for the
chestnuts to finish toasting in the oven.  The smell reminded me of a 
crisp winter's fire my family and I often shared on Saturday evenings 
by our fireplace.  Christmas seemed so enchanting this year with the 
addition of twinkling lights on our Christmas tree and my grandfather's 
smoky trains. 

I continued twirling as the oven counted the remaining minutes until
completed chestnuts.  The light taps that my black patent leather shoes 
produced against the tile floor made me feel like I was dancing in a 
similar style to the Rockettes.  My cranberry velour dress spun with me 
each time I twirled around, showing a vision of my ruffled white slip 
and sheer stockings. 

Someone had informed me that Christmas was a special time of the year
where magical things could occur.  Indeed, this year was quite special 
with a visit to Walt Disney World and a special gift from my father 
several days after our return home.  Along with my trip had been the 
arrival of my dear grandparents and aunts. 

I hummed a version of Sleigh Bells in my head as the oven bell sounded,
notifying those in a surrounding room that the chestnuts had finished 
roasting.  My mother entered the room, staring down at me with a 
pleasant smile. 

"They're ready!" I chirped with everyS bit of excitement in my body. 

My mother opened the oven with her festive snowmen gloves and gently
pulled out the tray.  It scratched against the metal bars, which made 
me want to cover my ears. 

As she placed the chestnuts on the counter, the room filled with
overbearing delight.  Immediately, the scent of freshly baked chestnuts 
filled the air and traveled throughout the house.  As a result of the 
chestnut aroma, my guests quickly gathered in the kitchen like the 
attraction of two magnets.  It was as if the scent of chestnuts had 
actually said, "Hey, I'm ready! Would you like a scrumptious chestnut?" 


My mother's strong hands offered the traditional Christmas tray to my
bantam fingers.  Quite suddenly, I was aware of the warmth throughout 
the room.  It is very possible the heat was produced by the strength of 
the oven, but I prefer to believe the room was warmed by the joy and 
happiness produced throughout my family members. 

I offered each guest a tender and luscious chestnut in exchange for a
heartwarming grin.  Nothing could possibly taste better than my 
mother's chestnuts on Christmas Eve.  With each chestnut I popped into 
my mouth, a taste of delectation and satisfaction warmed my soul. As I 
offered the last chestnut to my loving mother, an unexpected surprise 
occurred.  The ring of a doorbell broke the contentment with the fresh 
chestnuts.  After my father opened the door, he shouted, "Christmas 
carolers!" 

The guests and I quickly scurried to the front door, leaving my mother
with a now vacant tray.  At the door, we were greeted by several 
carolers dressed in eighteenth century style fashion, as my mother 
remained in the kitchen singing The Christmas Song.  The charming song 
soon produced a harmony as the carolers at our door joined in, along 
with the periodic "choo choo"' produced by the poignant trains. 


   


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