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by elizabeth zale

I twirled around the tile floor in my kitchen, waiting patiently for the chestnuts to finish toasting in the oven. The smell reminded me of a crisp winter's fire my family and I often shared on Saturday evenings by our fireplace. Christmas seemed so enchanting this year with the addition of twinkling lights on our Christmas tree and my grandfather's smoky trains.
I continued twirling as the oven counted the remaining minutes until completed chestnuts. The light taps that my black patent leather shoes produced against the tile floor made me feel like I was dancing in a similar style to the Rockettes. My cranberry velour dress spun with me each time I twirled around, showing a vision of my ruffled white slip and sheer stockings.
Someone had informed me that Christmas was a special time of the year where magical things could occur. Indeed, this year was quite special with a visit to Walt Disney World and a special gift from my father several days after our return home. Along with my trip had been the arrival of my dear grandparents and aunts.
I hummed a version of Sleigh Bells in my head as the oven bell sounded, notifying those in a surrounding room that the chestnuts had finished roasting. My mother entered the room, staring down at me with a pleasant smile.
"They're ready!" I chirped with every bit of excitement in my body.
My mother opened the oven with her festive snowmen gloves and gently pulled out the tray. It scratched against the metal bars, which made me want to cover my ears.
As she placed the chestnuts on the counter, the room filled with overbearing delight. Immediately, the scent of freshly baked chestnuts filled the air and traveled throughout the house. As a result of the chestnut aroma, my guests quickly gathered in the kitchen like the attraction of two magnets. It was as if the scent of chestnuts had actually said, "Hey, I'm ready! Would you like a scrumptious chestnut?"
My mother's strong hands offered the traditional Christmas tray to my bantam fingers. Quite suddenly, I was aware of the warmth throughout the room. It is very possible the heat was produced by the strength of the oven, but I prefer to believe the room was warmed by the joy and happiness produced throughout my family members.
I offered each guest a tender and luscious chestnut in exchange for a heartwarming grin. Nothing could possibly taste better than my mother's chestnuts on Christmas Eve. With each chestnut I popped into my mouth, a taste of delectation and satisfaction warmed my soul.
As I offered the last chestnut to my loving mother, an unexpected surprise occurred. The ring of a doorbell broke the contentment with the fresh chestnuts. After my father opened the door, he shouted, "Christmas carolers!"
The guests and I quickly scurried to the front door, leaving my mother with a now vacant tray. At the door, we were greeted by several carolers dressed in eighteenth century style fashion, as my mother remained in the kitchen singing The Christmas Song. The charming song soon produced a harmony as the carolers at our door joined in, along with the periodic "choo choo"' produced by the poignant trains.


Yes, so I am a teenager, yet I am different from your "average" teenager. I live on one of the most enchanting islands I have ever visited. My home revolves around the ocean and the beach, two of nature's gifts that I have grown quite fond of. I love many aspects of Life, and from keeping a journal, as well as writing stories and poems, my views on Life have improved. I truly believe writing can create a person and produce a unique style -- one unlike any other.

more about elizabeth zale


island beauty
by elizabeth zale
topic: writing
published: 12.30.99


tracey kelley
12.31.01 @ 11:51a

Welcome to intrepid, Elizabeth!

adam kraemer
12.31.01 @ 1:05p

I'm probably showing my ignorance here, but what, exactly is "The Christmas Song"? I assumed there was more than one. Many, as a matter of fact. Unlike Chanukah songs, of which I can't think of more than two.

joe procopio
12.31.01 @ 1:35p

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. That one. It's called the Christmas Song out of either laziness or megalomania.

Isn't Sandler's song called "The Chanukah Song?"

tracey kelley
12.31.01 @ 3:07p

I think Mel Torme just wanted more royalities when he named "Chestnuts..." "The Christmas Song", knowing that most people who call a radio station to request a song never know what the hell the title is. Pay for play, baby: "Umm, yeah, can you play that Christmas song?" Ka-ching!

elizabeth zale
12.31.01 @ 4:29p

Wow.. This is my first day at Intrepid, and so far it has been quite a joy! I have to get to know the website a bit better, though, for I have become lost several times.
It is a bit odd that the chestnut song is actually named "The Christmas Song." In fact, in my first draft of Chestnuts I called the song "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire" instead of its actual name.
Just to clarify a question someone left in my critiques.. Yes, I am truly fourteen (soon to be fifteen!).

jael mchenry
12.31.01 @ 5:04p

Ooh, I think that's a record! Intrepid Media: younger every day.

Ah, cranberry velour. I think I had that dress too. Lace collar with a ribbon in the front?

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