The door opened, and Mom wheeled in a cart. “I’ve got a hot chocolate delivery for some elves. Am I in the right place?”
“Yes!” Gertie cried, clapping her hands. Her dad chuckled, eyes sparkling, as he watched his daughter.
We’d gotten a small group for the event, given that I’d organized it on short notice, but Gertie’s excitement made it worth the effort.
“Come choose your mug and your toppings,” Mom said with a big smile.
Gertie hopped up and ran over to point at the reindeer mug.
“Oh, good choice,” Mom said as she lifted the carafe and poured steaming hot chocolate into the mug. “This is hot, so I’m going to add a little milk to cool it, but be careful and sip, okay?”
Gertie nodded, listening to the cocoa-drinking instructions as if there’d be a test later. “I will!”
She reached out her hands, but Mom held the mug out of her reach. “Not so fast. We have to add toppings!”
Gertie’s eyes got huge. “Oh!”
“We’ve got marshmallows, whipped cream, cinnamon sprinkles?—”
“Yes!” Gertie exclaimed.
Mom laughed. “All of them it is, then.”
She filled Gertie’s cup to the brim, the cinnamon and marshmallows disappearing under a mound of foamy whipped cream. She stuck a wafer cookie, rolled into a straw-like shape, into the cocoa as the final touch.
Gertie took the mug with the biggest smile I’d ever seen on a kid’s face. Forget about Santa. Forget about presents. This was obviously the best moment of her young life.
I sighed with nostalgia. Everything was so magical when you were seven.
While Iola and Lula got their hot chocolate, I took the opportunity to grab a broom and start sweeping up stray pine needles. They’d drifted across the table, all over the floor, and even managed to adhere to little Gertie’s cheek.
If we were really going to host a dinner party here in a few weeks, I didn’t want the mess to get away from me.
“Come sit down, Noel!” Mom called. “Enjoy some cocoa with your mother.”
I leaned the broom against the far wall and returned to my seat. It looked as if everyone was wrapping up. Gertie sipped her cocoa, leaving her dad—who’d passed on the sugary drink—to finish the wreath.
“More ribbon, Daddy!” she instructed as I retook my seat. “It’s not as pretty as Lula’s!”
“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” Lula countered. “That wreath is just perfect because you made it.”
Mom nudged me. “Remember that year you were in second grade and obsessed with Iron Man?” She snickered. “You insisted on using this Iron Man face as the center of the wreath and decorating everything in red and gold. Your dad busted a gut laughing when he saw it on the front door.”
Gertie looked over, eyes bright. “That sounds cool! I should have made a unicorn wreath with a big horn in the center, and it could have been blue and purple and pink because unicorns have lots of colors!”
“You should have,” I agreed with an official nod. “My Iron Man wreath was thebest.”
Mom chuckled. “You sure loved it, and gosh, we had fun that year. You followed Santa all around, acting as hiselfand giving out candy canes to the kids, remember?”
“Ah, yes, I was lucky to stay off the naughty list. I kept asking him questions about the North Pole until he was ready to pull out his hair.”
Iola chuckled. “Kids always make Christmas so magical.”
“They do, don’t they?” Mom mused. “I just can’t believe I didn’t keep up with these events better. I suppose it was never as much fun without you.”
Aw, cue the guilt trip.
Truth was, Christmas had never been as special for me, either, once I’d left. I’d just gotten caught up in escaping my small town for a big career and forgotten all the great things about my home.
