Like snowflakes, my Christmas memories gather and dance - each beautiful, unique and too soon gone."

I've been slacking on the blog..

It seems like, this month, I've been non-stop decorating, shopping, wrapping and baking. And somehow, in the middle of Ohio in the winter, I'm so warm and fuzzy. I love, love, love Christmas.

But I think I love Christmas so much for what it used to be, not so much what it is now. Don't get me wrong, I love Christmas now..I share it with the love of my life, my best friends, family, and new family. But it's just not the same as when I was younger. There was so much magic in Christmas; the season was so enchanting that it was almost too much for my little brain to handle. I miss that mystic feeling. I'm hoping it comes back once I have children of my own.

Mostly, I miss baking Christmas cookies with my Grandma. So much so it hurts now I'm baking on my own. She was the best -- best baker, best gift-wrapper, best Grandma ever.

We used to have a routine, a Christmas cookie assembly line if you will. We were so skilled in our separate roles that we could knock out a ton of cookies in no time, despite the tiny kitchen in which we were operating.

Before she passed away, I was able to tell her how much this meant to me. It's kind of an odd thing to mention in casual conversation, so I wrote a short story about it. I gave it to her as a Christmas present. I like to get it out and read it around this time, to remind myself of the details that time blurs. And I thought I'd share, so that you can see what I was blessed with growing up.

The clothes-piercing December winds make the chimes dance as I open the back door. Inside, the 60's flower wallpaper gives me a welcome hug with its warm colors. It's cramped; tight quarters makes Grandma's perfume take control of my nostrils. The stairs moan with age as I walk from the doorway, up into the kitchen. The refrigerator boasts proudly her most prized possessions - scribbles from young children, photos of families smiling, recipes and Holy Cards. Walking past the stove, the aromas of cutout cookies pour from every seam. Bubbles fill the kitchen television screen as the Lawrence Welk Christmas Special re-airs. On the table, my utensils are laid out in a ritual assembly order, starting with the cookie cutters and ending with the sprinkles. I hear the soft scuffle of her house slippers - the blue ones with the fluff around the ankles. She turns the corner with her white hair glistening in the light and lips a freshly painted color of crimson. The wrinkles around her eyes show where her smiles have been, although they're hiding under thick glasses. Her long, pastel pink fingernails cup my face and she gives me one of her funny little kisses she does - the kind that won't get lipstick on your cheek. "We've missed you so much sweetie..." In the living room, Grandpa's sitting in his Lazyboy with the leg-stand up. He gives me a smile and returns to watching the weather forecast. The petite Christmas tree adorned with children's handmade ornaments shrouds the Christmas presents. "I've missed you too Grandma."