(prompt: 'vote' Jan 9, 2021)
Ahh those cooking smells, attacking the senses relentlessly; making stomachs ache, convinced the need was a near-starvation-death wish.
In the previous days,all had become accustomed to the aromas of the various biscuits baking and cooling on every counter-top. Mouths had watered unbearably at the special spices in the dedicated Christmas fare of shortbreads and the spicy brown crispy discs called brunkager...
"And klejner, with their intricate patterns." Kanute closes his eyes and sniffs nothing there in the air around him; nothing, that is, except memory, strong as... "Loved watching Mum cut those diamond shapes and tuck a point through a slit in the middle," he continues, and shakes his head in disbelief. "The patience!"
"BUT, the smells as we came inside after Church! The pork and duck were close to ready, having the last minutes of obligatory 'rest' time before carving, and the red cabbage, and tiny plain and caramelised potatoes, and other veg, and about a gallon of sumptuous gravy, and, and..."
"All the wonderful pickles and accompaniments! I surely know all of them." I don't believe there were any I've not made in the decades that followed. I L-O-V-E Danish food!
NO-O-O-O-O!!! STOP RIGHT THERE!
All this reminiscing would be wonderful if we'd not just started the year AFTER 2020, wherein we experienced (or endured, as the case may be!) — a VERY different Christmas from those back when.
I put it to a vote and our furry, feathered, and hairy family agreed UNANIMOUSLY that I save all the delicious bits until the last month of 2021, and do them full justice at the end of a hopefully much-improved year of our lives. If there are any 'nays' out there (apart from the horses next door), I'm not listening. This is the time for shouting the immortal words of that famous song, written way before 2020, but gee whillikers, it fits like a glove, hey?
'Cause I'm moving on up
You're moving on out
Moving on up
Nothing can stop me now
In similar words, but with the same intention, spake the Japanese tennis umpire who once began a Finals match in a loud voice from the top of his Chief-Referee-of-all-tennis-rules-chair-tower (only over-ridden by the electronic line judge who IS infallible!), by saying —
PRAYERS! PRAY!
Author's Note: And if there is groaning and gnashing of teeth, anticipating the l-o-n-g wait, spare a thought for the little kiddly-pops, who also have to wait a whole year (that takes the best part of a century to pass for them)!
YOU ARE READING
... She Wrote
Short StoryMy 2021 'flasher' fiction and non-fiction collection of short-shorts written to meet a weekly single prompt word challenge.
