My family has
along tradition of celebrating Twelfth Night, or Epiphany, with a roaring fire
in the fireplace. Each person, in turn, throws a small sprig of evergreen into
the fire and makes a wish for the coming year. If you tell your wish, it will
not come true. A Chicago neighbor, who was like an aunt, started that when I
was very young. I have no idea if she made it up or where she got the idea. I’ve
heard of other Epiphany traditions—King’s Cake, for instance—but never heard of
anyone else burning branches. What it
could have to do with the arrival of the three kings at the stable in Bethlehem
is beyond me, but I like traditions.
I kept it going
with my children when they were young, and we’ve done it with Jacob every year,
I think. In recent years, Jordan, Christian, and I have included a few
neighbors, as we did last night. Jordan had a lengthy list of friends, but
several declined for various reasons, so there we were ten of us. The evening
was pleasant, only a little chilly, and the Burtons have a new (to them)
outdoor firepit, so we burned our branches on the front porch.
Every Christmas
Jordan longs for the chocolate chip bars I always made for my annual tree
trimming party. It’s been at least four years since I’ve given that party, so
it’s been four years she’s been talking about it. So for last night, nothing
would do but I had to make those bars. It was always a project, but more so in
my tiny kitchen. The dough is like chocolate chip cookie dough only much
stiffer—to make bars instead of cookies. I took it as far as I could but had to
call Jordan for the final stirring. My
arms have lost strength, and I mostly cook from my Rollator which makes an
awkward angle for heavy-duty stirring.
By the time Jordan came to help me, I was covered with flour and had a good
smear of chocolate across my chest. Not only that but I had dropped a whole egg
on the floor—it literally jumped out of my hand.
The
chocolate chip bars were a hit, the firm warm and cheering, the wishes silent –
I’ll never tell! Even Sophie got to be part of the festivities though neighbor
Greg, who ended up with her, said it was apparent she doesn’t spend much time
on a leash. After the ceremonial burning, we sat in the living room and caught
up with each other’s news.
Chalk the evening
up as another nice memory.
