Dear Santa (Part 2 of 3)

This is the follow-up post to 12/13/08 - Dear Santa (Part 1 of 3) and my second submission for 20SB December Blog Carnival. You will notice my Grandmother is part of each of the 5 senses. At age 89 and after a scary past month, I’m realizing (a realization I adamantly denied for quite awhile) that time may be shorter than I hope for and I should cherish whatever amount of time I have left with her. I know that’s cliché sounding, but whatever. I’m not feeling very poetic at the moment and I don’t know how else to word it.

My Wishlist Of 5 Items, One For Each Sense
(Well, more than one for each sense. I got carried away.)

Sight - Seeing my Grandmother’s trademark smile. White holiday lights shining thru a blanket of fresh fallen snow. The Nutcracker Ballet accompanied by a live performing orchestra...I know that sounds odd coming from me, but there is good reason why it brings me immense comfort, relaxation and happiness. Watching classic movies with Dad, like "A Christmas Story" and "Christmas Vacation", we share the same stupid humor. And naturally, presents under my parent’s Christmas tree. Peeking at them makes me feel like a kid again, even if they aren’t all (or any) for me.

Hearing - Ave Maria sang (in Latin) by the church choir. Don’t ask me why and I’m embarrassed to admit it, but that song can practically bring me to tears. It has to be one, if not the, most beautiful sounding songs ever sung. My Grandmother’s stories. I never tire of them and there are still many that I anxiously await. My Mom’s cat purring, reminds me of our family cat growing up who I miss dearly. My 4-year-old niece’s boisterous giggle, it’s contagious. I also like it when she tells me she loves me, completely out of the blue. How someone only 3 feet tall can melt my heart is pretty remarkable.

Touch - My Grandmother’s hands, they feel like paper. It’s rather ironic that she’s a gifted writer and words seem to fall from those very hands when a pen is slipped between her fingers. Throwing my niece into the air and catching her. A hug from Mom, nothing compares. Getting my finger pricked by the pine needles on the Christmas tree. The weight of my dog's chin resting upon my shoulder. Holding hands with a girl I’m falling in love with.

Taste - Red wine with Christmas Eve h'orderves that follow after midnight mass. My Grandmother’s homemade vegetable soup, it never fails to warm the soul. Mom sending me home with dinner leftovers to last a week. Licking my fingers after eating an iced sugar cookie Santa, tree or star.

Smell - The scent of a woman. The allure of their perfume mixed with the essence of everything feminine from shampoo, to body lotion, to even their deodorant. I don’t know what it is, but I love it! It makes me so weak to them. The smell of torn wrapping paper and Scotch tape, with an underlying hint of Dad brewing coffee on Christmas morning. The indescribable scent of the house I grew up in it. I don’t know how to describe it, other than not only does it feel like home, it smells like home too. My Grandmother’s perfume. Although I find it sickening sweet and overwhelming, it lets me know she’s near, that she’s still here, and that makes me so happy.