Taste of Christmas

I grabbed a fistful of fabric, pulling on my mother’s apron, desperate to get her attention.

She leaned down towards me.

‘What is it darling?’ she smiled, a smudge of cake flour across her rosy cheek.

‘Can I have a turn?’

‘Of course,’ she scooped me up into her strong arms, holding me over the earthenware bowl. Rich smells of cinnamon, all spice, raisins and orange peel, saturated my senses. I involuntarily reached out, scooping a small finger of creamy brown cake mix, sucking it between my lips before she noticed.

She clasped my hand in hers as I clutched the wooden spoon.

‘We’ll do it together. Three stirs for a Christmas wish,’ she promised.

I twisted around, my gaze smiling up at her happy face, basking in the warmth of Christmas love.

The exceptional comfort of love, is my secret wish, for everyone.

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