Every Christmas, I think of my grandparents and the traditions we shared. I think of a small bungalow on Lankin Boulevard in Toronto. I think of a large green bowl with chips in it attached to a small green bowl with dip. I think of a stacked plate of Christmas cookies, 13 kinds in total that Grandma had lovingly baked. I think of a cozy rec room filled with family opening presents under a miniature tree. I think of my Grandma ripping open her presents and my Granddad carefully opening his with a knife; Grandma was done in 2 minutes whereas Granddad took two hours. I think of Grandma falling asleep in her Lazyboy chair while Granddad folded all of the wrapping paper. I think of Granddad tinkling the ivories on the upright piano, his tenor voice accompanying the song. I think of Grandma telling funny stories and of Granddad's hearty laugh echoing in the hallway. Thanks, Grandma and Granddad for making my Christmases so magical. Merry Christmas!!!
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