My two siblings and I always spent part of Christmas Eve at Aunt Amy’s… the
most mystical woman I have ever known.
Aunt Amy’s wonderful white washed cottage, sat beside a brook. On the
riverbank, a majestic weeping willow bowed its branches over her very
special bench. This had been made as a memorial to her beautiful retriever,
We always approached the cottage with the usual feelings of excitement and
trepidation. As we knocked on Aunt Amy’s door, she was hardly ever there to
greet us… the door just creaked open into a long, dark hallway, where the
sound of ticking could be heard from a tall, solemn clock on the wall. Aunt
Amy did her very best to make us feel like we were in a horror movie and it
I remember the smell… cinnamon! Aunt Amy would always light the joss sticks
just before we arrived.
We walked with feelings of nervous splendor into the hallway and then slowly
we pushed the lounge door open. There she would be… sat …