Chestnuts

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 ever 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.