Pine Needles and Eggnog

By Joey Oshins

With a sharp crack, I slam an egg down on the side of a bowl. I open the shell and begin the balancing act of passing the bright orange yolk back and forth between the two shell halves. The egg white slides away, and I have successfully separated the golden pearl. I then whisk the yolks and sugar into smooth, rich ribbons that glisten in the yellow light. Carefully, I ladle hot cream into the egg mixture while whisking vigorously until the eggnog base is finished, and I let it slowly cool.

The tradition of me making eggnog for my family members as we decorate a sparkling Christmas tree has continued since I was eleven years old, the senses so comforting and nostalgic that I will never forget them. For instance, the way the impenetrable darkness of winter makes my home feel like the only safe place on earth—the lights from the newly collected tree sparkle and gleam as they reflect on metallic ornaments. I sniff and smell peppermint and baked goods mixed with the earthiness of pine needles. As I take a rest from my cooking, my family and I decorate the Christmas tree. The world feels at peace as we place elves with fluffy beards and plastic birds with real feathers that look almost captured in flight from the tree branches. I watch my cat Edna, a weathered and old cat on the lookout for danger, see the green needles as a threat and pounce into the sharp branches. She tumbles to the ground and, embarrassed, prances around the living room while we all laugh uproariously. While I wish I could stay in the living room full of the gleaming yellow light from the ree, a fierce crackling fire, and my family, I reluctantly leave to check on the eggnog.

I check if the eggnog has thickened enough to coat the back of a wooden spoon, and then carefully, I pour the liquid through a sieve to ensure the eggnog is silky and smooth. I place a lid on the pot and sink into the warm couch by the tree. As we wait for the drink to cool, I feel stress-free and comfortable and seem to fall into a world of sparkling lights and the smell of sweet peppermint. As the minutes go by, my family and I tell stories, share jokes and laugh at our cat, who, with her back legs poised to pounce, hisses, and growls at the Christmas tree. After what seemed like an eternity, we rise, and I give each of my family members a ladle full of eggnog. I sparkle each glass with a touch of nutmeg, and I raise my cup of warm and fluffy nostalgia. The mixture tastes so rich that I feel more tranquil and at ease than at any point of the year. I feel like a small kid again, with no worries or cares, as the deep tangy flavor brings back memories of Christmases many years ago. The nostalgia so intense that I forget all my worries and live in a world of pine, sparkling ornaments, fake icicles, and a warm cup of creamy eggnog. I look around at my house and see the room filled with firelight orange like the sunset; I feel more tired yet more optimistic than ever before, filled with a euphoria that I hope to carry for the rest of my life. I hear the clock ticking above the fire, and I sink deeper into the light couch cushions. The talk amongst my family quiets as we all fall into a trance, too dream-like for discussion.

The walls of my house seem to hold back the winter darkness and the presence of my family members holds back any stress that my mind may uncover. Suddenly I feel intensely optimistic. If serenity and happiness are achievable through a mug of eggnog, the earthiness a Christmas tree brings, and, most importantly, my family, then life is simpler than I realized. For at this moment, I have no wants or desires to be anywhere but exactly where I am, sitting on the warm couch with my family.