Recipe for Making Memories

     In the center of the small room stood a walnut drop-leaf table surrounded with four matching chairs. The table was covered with a white oilcloth; and in the center was a blue china bowl filled with large, golden, delicious apples. Beside the apples was a round, dark brown, crockery cookie jar, brimming to the top, with those unforgettable sugar cookies.   My fascination for these cookies, besides their delicious nutmeg flavor and crunchy texture, was their saucer-like size with a large, plump , raisin set in the center.
     An antique Grandfather’s clock hung against a scorched, brown papered wall designed with pale, lithe bluebirds in flight. Its tick tocks and bongs broke the silence of the room.
     I was startled by the tapping and scraping sound on the window outside, and the shadows that danced on the floor in the moonlight, until grandma reassured me it was a branch of the rosebush furiously tossed by the whistling March wind.
     A floor register was near the sewing machine. As I sat on the footstool, I draped my skirt over my knees and put my feet upon the register. I loved the feeling of the hot air whooshing up my legs. Grandma always sat at her sewing machine . She taught me how to embroider , and together we would sew and talk. Then she would read my favorite “Uncle Wigley” bedtime stories. Soon after , she would tuck me into her double bed , that was in the same room ,and I would fall asleep knowing that my grandma would be next to me when I woke in the morning.

The End