Arms filled with love

Candace A. Rosovsky

Christmas was always my favorite holiday. Going with Dad and the twins to find just the right tree. Folding bright origami birds to hang as ornaments. Making a wreath of holly and fir at Girl Scouts' for our door.

On Christmas Eve the cousins and aunts and uncles would come over first. And then we would all wait for Danny, our grandmother, who always came late, her arms filled with packages for everyone. Usually they weren't all wrapped, and she'd say, "Oh dear, just let me go into the bedroom and finish wrapping these last few things." And of course we'd wait while she finished. Sometimes we'd try and peek. But she wouldn't let us in.

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