sketchbook stories: wonderland

...in the lane, snow is glistening

Christmastime. The old house, bedecked in holiday attire. The air scented with spruce and winterberry, candles in every window. The felt snowmen my mother stitched hanging on the scraggly tree. My father’s childhood miniature village, hand-carved and splintery, lining window ledges. On the hearth, three woolen socks waiting to be filled, their mates long since lost.

We had snow, then, it always snowed, and we were shoveling, always shoveling. The snowbanks up to our knees. Candy canes frozen to our tongues. And me on my Flexible Flyer, gliding down the hill in white silence, soft and pure—  

A thousand moons ago.

illustration by my mom, Karyl Bannister

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🎄Wishing you peace for the holidays and coming year🎄