I’m not joking. There are three items on my list of Things I Never Want to Know:
• How much money I’ve spent on disposable diapers. (Each one was worth it.)
• How much money I’ve spent on photographs. (Each one was worth it.)
• How many calories were on the table at the Christmas Treat Swap I recently attended. (Each one was worth it!)
Weeks before the actual event, the topic of a Cookie Exchange resurfaced. My cousins’ wives, Nowanna and Tammy, Aunt Judy and I decided this would be the year we would do more than talk about it. We set a date and time and accepted Nowanna’s offer to host the premier party. My job was to find out the rules for such a gathering, and the Internet was filled with advice.
• “Invite 8 to 12 people.” (Too late. We had already spread the word.)
• “The main ingredient of each recipe must be flour. Only cookies are allowed.” (Go without my niece Brandi’s Ooey Gooey dessert bars? Rule No. 2 was quickly struck down along with the title, Cookie Exchange.)
• “Bring copies of the recipe
to distribute.” (Take up valuable table space with paper? Instead guests were asked to email a copy
of the recipe so that booklets could be made and distributed at the party.)
Guests arriving at the Christmas Treat Swap were welcomed by the warm glow of a fire in a fire pit, an artfully decorated front porch and a wreath on the roof. The work my cousin Tait had done outside set the stage for their home, which Nowanna had beautifully dressed in the colors of Christmas. Knowing I would want to look back on the night and try my best to copy her decorating ideas, I sent a text to my daughter Monique, “bring camera.” Tait and Nowanna’s labor of love was enjoyed by all who gathered to talk, laugh and eat.
Personally, the night was more than a party. It was visit back in time, for Tait and Nowanna live
in my grandmother’s house.
They have restored and enlarged the home in such a way it feels
as though it was never altered.
My grandmother would love it!
What a privilege I have to walk through rooms that have seen
every stage of my life, rinse my hands in the same kitchen sink
my grandmother washed my hair
in, and stir a pot on the stove I can still picture her using. Memories created at the Treat Swap were stored with a lifetime of other moments spent in that house. I’m sure those memories even outnumber the amount of calories on the table.
And I’m not joking.
Ronny may be reached at rmichel@rtconline.com.