Red Writing Hood: Someone Else's Life

Someone Else's Life

 Duck. Duck. Goose.
White satin tablecloth, topped with a red table runner.
A duck on one end and a goose on the other.
Thinly sliced carrot coins covered in parsley and boiled in salty, sweet butter.
Purple cranberry salad filled with marshmallows and nuts.
The comforting smell of Grandma's hand cream from the little white jar with bold pink lettering.
That extra little plate of chicken, just for Stephie, because Stephie doesn't like ham.
Ripe, plump strawberry halves crowning a generously iced with whipped cream angel food cake.
A long yellow oak table with an extra sleeve put in, with mismatched chairs scattered around.
Smiles, laughter, mashed potatoes topped with chunky chicken gravy.
A basement filled with Christmas cookies made from scratch.
Secret giggles as a rum cookie is stolen by someone under 21.
Games of Trivial Pursuit and laughter over Jimmy Carter's hemorrhoids.
Hol(e)y socks, long haired uncles, and listening to *gasp* rock n roll on the stereo.
The aroma of dinner rolls fresh from the oven, hot to the touch and golden brown as they go in the basket. Cinnamon sticks spicing up the air while apple cider in a crock pot steams the room.
Aunts forcing nieces to try crab meat in the kitchen, lying about disliking it just to keep the upperhand. "Stephie, pour the drinks".
Aunt Fran's bosom and shirts cut to there.
The Serenity prayer on a keepsake gold plastic Bible.
Coconut macaroons that melt in your mouth, the soft white disks on the bottom a hint of crisp.
Warm hugs from Grandma and all the family gathered around.

It's like a homeless child from a Dickens novel peeking through a bay window at Christmas dinner, misty fog along the edges, viewing someone else's life, and Oh, how I miss it.