Every Christmas my family gathers around my
grandmother’s house to get a taste of home from
her homemade recipe of fruitcake.
With her bedazzled apron, big bowl, and spatula
she gets to work making magic that still sparks
thirty years later, we hear the clanks & clacks as she works.
We don’t always know what draws my family every
Christmas to my grandmother’s fruitcake, but I know it
makes magic that still sparks everywhere it goes.
Children laugh, adults drink, but grandma cooks, she
cooks because she can, she cooks because she loves to, and
she cooks because of the magic it makes thirty years later.
Even though I never got to say it, I thank my grandmother
for all those years of love, I thank her for all those years
of cooking, and I thank her for never giving up on us.
Every Christmas my family gathers around my grandmother’s
house. We laugh, we drink, we eat, but most
importantly we thank her for the years of magic with fruitcake.