Christmas Traditions

As a little girl, I can remember my Father coming into my room very early in the morning and jumping on my bed announcing the arrival of "Cookie Day"".  I was his only daughter, his little princess. My mother and I had a very strained relationship from a very young age and my father took on the roll of both mother and father to me. 1

As the holidays would approach, my father would try and do something special with me, Either help me make ornaments for our tree, or set aside a day for our special shopping trips, (which always included a gift just for me). One year I was very sad, it was a week before Christmas and my Mother still didn’t want to bake cookies with me so I could leave them for that special visitor. My dad picked up on my sadness and decided that the next day we would have our first of many "cookie days".2

That next day he woke me up very early so we could start to bake. We didn’t even have to eat breakfast that day as dad said we needed to save all our room for testing the cookies. We turned on the radio to play Christmas carols and our adventure had begun. We baked all sorts of goodies, sugar cookies (which we frosted and decorated beautifully); we made chocolate chip cookies, butter cookies, and every cookie you could think of. I remember the smell as it wafted from the oven teasing my taste buds with the delicate taste of our creations. We laughed and he told me stories of Christmas past, from when he was a little boy. We took a break for lunch and then continued our baking. We baked until late in the evening, we baked so many cookies that we had enough for Santa Claus and to make beautiful plates full of our treats to give as homemade gifts for everyone in our family. I was 6 years old when we had our first "cookie day", and we continued our tradition every year, adding a new cookie to our collection each year. As I got older and had a family of my own, we still continued our tradition of cookie day. I would pack up my daughters for the 45-minute drive to my dad’s house and they would get a big kick out of jumping on grandpa’s bed screaming with delight that it was cookie day. My father was diagnosed with cancer the summer of 1999 and we had our last "cookie day" with him on December 18, 1999, sick as he was he still didn’t want to disappoint me. He died 4 months later. I still carry on the tradition of cookie day with my girls who are now Teenagers, but still get excited about our special day each year. Thank you Dad for leaving me with such a precious memory. I Love you very much.3