Helping Lauren

　　It would be safe to say that I was definitely not looking forward to my first Christmas after moving to south Georgia, away from the comforts of my home, friends, and family back in Baltimore. Of course I was looking forward to the presents, but in spite of the joys of the season, I approached Christmas skeptically. I missed the cold weather, the steaming mugs of hot cocoa, my best friend's annual Christmas party, my front hall with it's gleaming tree, and most of all, Christmas at Grandma's house.

　　Our family would tramp into her warm kitchen, all six of us, after a long two-hour drive. The delicious aroma of cookies baking and the turkey roasting in the oven always made my mouth water. Grandma would bustle in with her apron covered in flour, smile, and give us each a hug. She would cluck about how cold it was getting, pat us on the head, and send us kids off to play. My three sisters and I would wait eagerly for our cousins to arrive. When they finally came, we would all rush down to the basement to discuss Christmas presents in secret.