Gingerbread Memory
I closed the door after the guests left my house and came back and sat in the living room. I was treating myself with the leftover vanilla cake when I saw something move on the Christmas tree. I looked up and saw the gingerbread man, blinking. “I have to be hallucinating,” I advised myself and paid interest to the sweet delicacy in front of me. All of my consciousness shifted at the Christmas tree that stood in the corner, across the fireplace. It was as still as a grave.Taking a quick glance at the gingerbread man, brought back so many memories. Every year on Christmas, back home, my mom used to make gingerbread cookies - father’s favourite. I recall Christmas when I was 8 years old as if it had happened yesterday. I remember how I would lie very still under the old moth-eaten quilt my mother made. I was wide awake and listening for those familiar sounds. The Thump! Of the front door closing… The Clomp!Clomp!Clomp! Of my father’s mud-caked boots on the stairs… and the...
