when she beat up the batter for pumpkin pie,
the metallicky smell of her Sunbeam mixer
the smell of ginger and cloves and cinnamon,
the taste of chocolate cake batter
scraped from the bottom of the bowl,
smells and tastes of Grandma.
I miss the excitement she had at Christmas,
how she decked out the house
with Rudolph and Dancer and Prancer,
silly animated Santas,
a tree done all in red and gingham,
filled with packages underneath,
memories of Mother.
I remember racing to see my Christmas stocking --
there was always an orange,
back in the days I could still eat oranges,
bulging out the toe,
and silly cheap toys that were fun for a day,
and too much chocolate -
memories of once upon a time.
And today I look out at the snow,
and feel their absence,
all the people who made those memories shine
and wish the Ghost of Christmas Past
would come and pay me a visit.