The GIFT by Shantell Cannon
The holiday season stirs up so many happy memories. Memories of Christmas morning: my daddy yelling, “Redddd, put some slippers on yo’ feet, lil girl,” as I eagerly raced across the wooden floors. The house was warmed with wall heaters, leaving the floors with that cool but welcoming feeling of winter on my bare feet... Racing to the Christmas tree that twinkled with multi-colored lights, handmade ornaments from each of us, and the few striped candy canes that actually survived until Christmas day... The strong smell of coffee brewing for my daddy and the sweet smells of cinnamon, butter and nutmeg from French toast flowed throughout the house… The little Christmas tree almost overtaken with the mountain of neatly wrapped gifts — hopefully filled with all the things my sister and I had circled in the Sear’s Christmas catalog. Back then — at least in that moment — life seemed simple and good. I guess life always seems “simple and good” ... until it’s not. 6
