Abuela used to get this look on her face
When we devoured her infamous flan
Creamy soft caramel-ly goodness that you could never have just one helping of even though it was rich and you’d already consumed an entire meal beforehand
It was pride and joy
And almost smug
Literally no one else in the world can make Abuela’s flan like she did
And I’ve tried flan all over the world. None compare. How could they?

I begged her to teach me
And one day while I was at uni
We spent a day
Writing down her recipes
How much? I would ask
You know, enough
She would say
Decades of experience and practice
Her recipes from memory
Even the utensils were older than me

And now it has been eight years since she died
And I’m still nervous when I make the flan
It has to live up to hers
There is a lot of pressure
It has to be right

And this year
I didn’t have a proper flan tin
Or Abuela’s ancient pressure cooker
(We did briefly consider the insta-pot, next year!)
But we did have a heart-shaped cake tin
And I made the caramel
The magic of sugar becoming liquid gold
And stirred the condensed milk and the sugar and the eggs
And baked it in the oven
And slid a knife around the edge
And turned it out of the tin without a single crack
And it tasted like heaven
Creamy soft caramel-ly goodness that you can’t have just one helping of even though it is rich and you’d already consumed an entire meal beforehand

I took the left-overs to work
And watched my friends have a taste
And I understood that look
That pride and joy
Almost smug
And felt Abuela
Standing beside me.

Opening presents together
The warmth from sharing heart-made gifts
A fairy-filled wander, discovering
Velvet green moss and bright red berries and wood-textured mushrooms
Making Abuela’s flan in a heart shaped tin
The alchemy of sugar into caramel
Following Abuela’s recipe to the letter and hoping she’s watching over me so it turns out right
(Don’t over-stir the eggs, you don’t want them scrambled)
The feeling when you turn the flan out of the tin and it’s perfection
And memories of over two decades of Christmases
And Sunday lunches
And her smell
Come flooding back
The joy of sharing the taste of home
Teaching Vi how to make fairy bread
And then indulging in my favoite tradition
Chinese take out for dinner
The hand-written sign on the door
Christmas is open!!! Monday is open!!!
The restaurant where we picked up the food filled with white-haired Jews
Who also, in a way, feel like family
I miss the Rabinowii
Watching two movie musicals in one day!
(Spirited and Across the Universe)
And even though everything is different this year
Feeling embraced
Feeling warm
Feeling at home with another chosen family

Watching my dear friend read 
A delightful edition of
The Night Before Christmas
Fairies and gnomes
Traipsing through the house
And peeking out from under the beds
Watching Vi prep for Santa
Placing home-baked cookies in the microwave
- Safe from the boisterous black cat - 
With a note on the table so Santa knows where to find them
Christmas magic

​I’ve been feeling
Swirly
Joyful and giddy and inspired
Tempered by
Moments of sadness
And missing and grieving
​
It has been fun to craft again
Play with a hot glue gun and
Colored thread
While listening to beautiful music
The Indigo Girls and Judy Garland and Barbra

Vicky left Australia when I was 10
Every time she called was an Event
It cost a fortune to call long distance back then
("In the late 1900s," as the kids now say
*eyeeee roll*!!!!)
It was always so special to hear her voice
The phone would be frantically passed around
"Hiiiii! Aunty Bicky! How are you? We miss you! We love you!" 
And now I live on the other side of the world 
And tonight my sister called me
And we chatted for 5 minutes while she walked to her car 
She filled me in on what she was buying everyone for Christmas
And the call was free
We could have chatted on video if we wanted to
And how extraordinary that in my lifetime
Computers have gone from being giant hulking blocks 
To tiny machines that fit in our pockets
That allow instant communication from New York to Sydney
And I so rarely feel homesick 
But this year Christmas is different
It's my first time without my husband 
Because he's not my husband any more 
And I miss him 
And everything has changed
And no amount of technology can bridge the gap in between 

Deborah came up with a task to
Imagine it was December 21, 2024
​To say aloud
The year I have lived 
The things I have achieved 
What life looks like
How I feel
Daring to dream
The possibilities 

You come out of the subway at
Lincoln Center
And you hear singing
And you realize it’s live
And there’s a quartet of acapella carolers
Singing gospel covers of Christmas tunes
Beneath trees adorned with strands of glowing lights
And even though it’s freezing
You sit in the middle of the street
In midtown Manhattan
To soak up their joyous singing
Oh, the weather outside is frightful
But inside your heart’s delightful
Later in the restaurant
A little girl
Hair in pigtails with red and white bows
And a gorgeous pink and red party dress that is perfect for twirling
White stockings and black shiny shoes
She has made friends with the older couple at the next table
When they go to leave
She hops up
“Are you going now?! Byeeeee!”
Who said Manhattan is hard?
And you go to the opera
Which is always such a delicious treat
On the way home, a man is sleeping on cardboard next to the turnstiles
A rough woolen blanket wrapped tightly around him
How can all of this exist at once?

​Reciprocate
From the Latin reciprocus
Meaning "returning the same way”
Giving back
Going back the way you came
But the path is different now.

The delight of beginner musicians 
Earnestly counting 
Tapping their converse and sneakers 
Remembering how to move their fingers across the keys 
Over the strings 
Connecting the dots on the page
To the sounds of their instruments 
Each. Note. Played. With. Equal. Importance
(Phrasing a skill yet to be mastered)
The enthusiasm of their teachers
Look how far they've come!