The Writer's Pen

Anticipation simmered like apple cider on the back burner. The weeks before Christmas were filled with activities at school, church, home and the great outdoors. Our snow fort was frozen so hard that it would be spring before its walls would melt. Our stash of snowballs had frozen together, but a swift kick could separate those lethal weapons should the neighbor boys show their heads.

The skating rink with its dirt banks had been flooded by the local fire department, but that gesture was the last adult involvement. Only a plank bench offered any respite when your fingers were stiff and the ska...