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.
