As I stand in the kitchen, I feel the frigid air seep in as the front door is opened and closed. My father makes his way inside from the cold frosty weather holding a pile of wood, ready to warm my sister and I from the cold outside. In the corner of my eye I see my sister let out a slight shiver. She too can feel the wintry wind race past us. I chuckle when I see how oblivious she is to the flour on her forehead, knowing I’m the reason she has the powder on her.

Every year our time is filled with joking and laughs while the heat of the fire fills the house and christmas music dances through the air. We have no problem trying to decide what cookies to bake, we know our favorites so we get straight to work.

We’ve been in the kitchen baking cookies all morning but we have reached our favorite part at last. We are finally ready to make the peanut butter cookies. I go to the cabinet to collect all of the ingredients while my sister races to find an unused bowl. Our impatience takes over as we race across the kitchen, dodging counter tops and each other the entire time, professionals from years of doing this exact act. It is an unspoken tradition, we get too excited making our favorite cookies that we dash back and forth in order to complete them as fast as we can.  

The best part comes next, I snatch the freshly baked cookies out of the oven, breathing in the familiar sweetness. Smiles spread across our faces as we patiently wait until we are able to eat our delicious masterpiece. As the time draws near, we are overly joyful with anticipation on the savory sweetness.