Christmas Cookies Short Story by Abigail Banda
“Open it!” He says.
I rip open the tiny gift in red and green striped wrapping paper. I throw what’s left of the wrapping on the floor by my feet, and stare at the white rectangular box. It reads on the front, ‘Christmas Cookies.’ It’s a perfume bottle. A Christmas cookies scented perfume. I hug him while tears build up in my eyes. This is my first Christmas without my mother. She passed away from cancer a few months ago. She had the best Christmas cookies recipe, but I never had the chance to learn it. I quickly but gently open the box and twist off the golden cap. I lift the bottle up to my nose to get a whiff of the sugary smell. The house would always smell just like this during the holidays, and now, it will continue to smell like my mother’s cookies every holiday season.