Chapter 6
Ilove Christmas.
Christmas is such a magical atmosphere. When we should be dreading long nights and cold days, we’re all warmed by the joyful atmosphere, the cozy fireplace, drinks that burn our throats a bit, and knit fabrics hugging us warm.
It’s the endless heaps of food to be shared, all toasted, buttery, sweet, and soul-filling.
It’s the little twinkling lights in every room, the dancing fire of candlelights or large chimney flames, and the holiday decor shining from every end of the room.
It’s the time when we forget our daily routine to enjoy a special moment, all dedicated to our loved ones, like we rarely get to.
It’s when we catch up with everyone, yet only have enough time to share the good parts.
It’s when we have an excuse to play with the children like we’re their age again, or discuss with our elders and earn a little bit of their wisdom.
It’s a time when we can miss those who are no longer with us, with bittersweet memories, and nostalgia is better shared.
Christmas is just like that. It’s that twinkle of warmth in the dark, the warmth that spreads through your body on snowy days, the moment your inner child gets a glimpse of the magic again.
It’s such a precious time, and yet, sometimes, it is just as beautiful as it is fragile.
I love seeing my nieces and nephews play with their new toys, argue over who gets to play with what first, and show the adults what Santa got them!
The girls have roped me into admiring their dolls, and I’m sporting a new friendship bracelet, freshly made from a machine.
Meanwhile, Nicolas and Beckett are helping the boys build something in a corner, and I have to bite back a smile when I see my boyfriend rubbing his temple and frowning at the instructions sheet, looking all serious for his mission!
We sprawled out in my parents’ living room, which is so cramped with all the toys, children, and adults!
“Thank goodness you’re here,” Parveen sighs next to me when the girls have gone to wash their hands. “Your mom was really worried about you not making it for Christmas lunch.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I smile. “How was last night?”
“It was good,” Parveen smiles. “I wish she’d let me help a bit, though…
Your mom does everything; she never lets Courtney or me help!
I know she means well, but I’ve been married to Simon for years, we do every single Christmas with you guys, and I’m still treated like a guest…
and I really want to help. But poor Jordan was the one running around all night, and between you and me, your brother is really kind, but he does not belong in the kitchen! ”
I chuckle. I loved Parveen the minute Simon introduced us; not only is she incredibly kind and patient, but she’s a kitchen aficionado like me.
We mostly keep in touch by sending each other recipes we see on social media, and she’s been following my blog loyally ever since I launched it.
We’ve had so many late-night calls about recipes or gossiping about our favorite baking show that we’ve become really close.
“Mom didn’t let you in the kitchen at all?” I frown. “What about your gingerbread cookies?”
“I brought them!” Parveen whisper-exclaims. “Because I knew she wouldn’t let me make them here, but she insisted I shouldn’t have, and she still made her own!”
“Oh, I think Mom just doesn’t like sharing her hosting duties,” I admit. “Even I only get to assist her, she always insists it’s her job… but I’d love to try your cookies! Where are they?”
Parveen glances warily toward my mom, but she’s busy with the girls making her a bracelet, so she quickly sneaks to the kitchen and brings back her plate.
As expected, her cookies look professionally made.
She clearly let the kids help with them, as I recognize their talent in the frosting, generously smeared over the holiday-themed shapes. I pick a snowman and bite.
Oh my goodness, there’s nothing like a homemade Christmas treat… The cookie isn’t too hard nor too soft; it has a bit of a slow crunch, then a dewy texture that just melts on my tongue in a burst of flavors. The sugary frosting complements the little prickle of citrus and spices perfectly!
“Parveen… These are amazing!” I squeal.
“Really?” she beams.
“Seriously, the spices are so well-balanced and flavourful! It’s not too dry either, and the texture is perfect… You have to give me the recipe!”
“It’s the spices and orange,” she shares. “I made three batches before I got the taste I was satisfied with; poor Simon had to eat gingerbread cookies all December long…”
I giggle, and we excitedly start chatting about her recipe and what spices she used.
I can’t believe I didn’t get to enjoy any baking until now!
I missed this so much, the thrill of uncovering a new flavor, finding the perfect alchemy of ingredients, bursting with new ideas to put my own twist on it!
Before I can think twice about it, I fetch my notebook, and we start talking about my latest ideas, the cake recipe I’ve been working on, and going through our ideas and mutual preferences as I show her my notes.
“Ophie, this is all amazing! Oh, and I looked up your blog yesterday, there were so many good comments from people who tried your holiday recipes!”
“I know!” I squeal excitedly. “I checked it during the drive. The traffic for the past few days peaked like crazy, and I got so much great feedback all at once! Many put pictures too, it all looks so great! I’m glad they enjoyed it.”
Parveen nods, but then, her smile dims a bit.
“…Did you miss not baking for Christmas this year?” she asks gently.
“I definitely did,” I admit, glancing toward Nicolas. “I mean, the restaurant was amazing and everything, but… there was a mishap, and we didn’t get any dessert.”
“No way?” she gasps.
“Cold room breakdown,” I nod. “I know it can’t be helped, but it was so unfortunate!
I was so looking forward to at least sampling some amazing Christmas desserts.
I mean, cooking has always been my love language, right?
Not getting to do it for Christmas this year feels so strange…
So many of my followers made some of my recipes, but I didn’t get to do a single one for you guys! ”
I’m glad Parveen can relate, because as much as I feel like my feelings are a bit silly, they’re still there!
I just love seeing people eat and enjoy the food I make.
I love cooking for Nicolas, and I love going all out for our anniversaries, birthdays, and of course, Valentine’s Day.
I adore the excitement right before he tries something I made for the first time, and how he always makes sure to be really honest in his appraisal, and compliments me every time.
Just like hugs, food is our love language. I mean, having my mom’s food is great! But there’s a little bit of me that wishes I could be the one to feed my loved ones, not just sit at the table and eat what my mom struggled to prepare all by herself…
“I know,” Parveen sighs. “I miss it so much too. I didn’t want to step on your mother’s toes, but I felt so worthless except for watching the kids! I really wish she’d let me help in the kitchen, you know how much I love cooking…”
She sighs, and I nod understandingly. Each time we visited Simon and Parveen, we had a whole feast waiting for us!
Her Dal is still one of my favorite dishes that I’ve ever tasted, and I can never make it as good as hers.
Sakina and Lilah love to cook with their mom as well, and they are already great at it.
They even have their own mini-kitchen! I’m sure they would have so much fun if they could help prepare the Christmas lunch…
“Holidays are such a thrill for the kids, and they should be, but as an adult?” Parveen continues, shaking her head.
“It’s all about compromising and trying to make everyone else happy.
I love Simon and my children, but everything that goes into preparing for every celebration ruins it for me.
Not only do we have to try to make everyone happy, but I feel like we end up sacrificing what makes us happy, you know?
Things would be easier if we at least got to do what we want, but instead, we’re all stuck in the same roles every year, trying not to step on any toes, whether we like it or not…
No matter how much we could use some change. It feels so silly!”
“I know, right?” I grimace.
“And the elders get more stubborn about it too,” she whispers.
We both glance toward the table, where Aunt Ruth has been talking Dad’s ear off for well over an hour now…
As usual, she showed up without warning, and no one had the heart to kick her out, so there she is, ranting about some new neighbor while Mom quietly fumes in the kitchen.
Now we’re kind of all a bit wary about approaching the table, even as lunch will soon be served.
Parveen and I exchange a grimace.
“I get what you mean,” I admit. “I had a taste last night with Nicolas’s mother. I adore his brother and sister-in-law, but his mom is a bit more… complicated. She’s fine on her own, but she can be so… hurtful at times, and it gets worse around Emi.”
“I can imagine. But we do it for their sake, right?” She sighs.
“I just want Simon and the kids to be happy, and really, that’s all that matters.
Still, sometimes, I just… feel a little bit unseen.
I try to put my own feelings aside, but the frustration is still there, you know?
I feel like all that weight is on my shoulders, and I cannot lessen the load or say something without disappointing someone.
And then I worry that every year will be the same, and it never gets any better, you know? ”
“…What do you do?” I ask. “When it gets… too hard?”
Parveen gives me a little smile.