Who Cooks for You?

Anja slipped into her snow pants, pulled on her boots, and stuffed her arms into her jacket. She threw a hat over her head, grabbed a pair of mittens, and snuck out the back door, quiet as a mouse.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said, as the door clicked shut, though she knew no one would hear her over the festivities inside.

With snow crunching beneath her feet, and snow pants swishing with each step, she ran to the woods. Once she was safe under the cover of her pines, Anja stopped to catch her breath and zip her jacket.

She glanced back toward home, at the small blue house outlined with the bright red and green lights. The glow of the Christmas tree through the big window highlighted the quickly approaching darkness, and Anja thought of the carefully wrapped presents her mother had lovingly placed beneath it. Her heart swelled with a feeling she couldn’t quite name, and her eyes threatened tears. Anja shook her head, and closed her eyes. She wondered if anyone would notice she was gone.

She knew that they probably wouldn’t, at least, not until it was time to eat. If anyone realized that she was missing, Anja imagined they would just be glad she wasn’t around to make noise and jump on the furniture.

Her family would surely be too busy fussing over her cute-as-button twin sisters, who were always adorable, but even more so in their matching red velvet dresses and sparkly shoes. Anja also had sparkly shoes, but she couldn’t stand the way her feet felt trapped inside them. She refused to put them on, even for one night, and this frustrated her mom.

She wasn’t as charming as her little sisters, and she definitely wasn’t as sweet as Aunt Cici’s new baby, born just a few weeks earlier. The grown ups were always fighting for a chance to hold him, even though all he did was eat, sleep, and poop. Grammy had scolded her earlier when she’d leapt from the couch to the ottoman and accidentally knocked over the baby’s bottle.

She hadn’t meant to do it, of course. Anja wanted to do the right thing. She always tried to be good. She longed to wear the sparkly shoes and the pretty dress for Christmas, but she just wasn’t able to. She wished she could let her mom braid her hair, so she would look nice for the celebration. She had tried so hard to sit still and stay quiet while the baby napped, but her body just didn’t cooperate. Anja was a kid that needed to move. She needed to be comfortable, and she had lots to say. She liked to climb, and crash, and run, and she couldn’t help it if she was sometimes loud.

It was hard, in there, with all the rules and expectations. Inside, somebody was always mad at her. Here in the woods, Anja could be herself, without bothering anyone. The pines welcomed her without judgement. She could run until her legs ached, spin in circles until she fell to the ground, or climb till her fingers touched the tops of the trees. She loved to feel the wind on her face, and didn’t even mind when it bit at her cheeks on chilly nights like this one. Out here, she felt free. Her brain wasn’t all jumbled up, and she could focus.

Anja crouched down and scooped up some snow with her hands. She squeezed and patted the snow until it formed a perfect ball. She raised her arm and sent the ball soaring through the air. It splattered across the trunk of a pine tree. Anja grabbed another handful of snow and tossed it, loose, up into the air. Cold, wet, powder sprinkled down on her face, and she quickly brushed it off.

The moon peeked through the trees, and the stars twinkled above. Anja thought she heard the faint jingle of sleigh bells, but upon scanning the sky, she saw nothing. She wandered down the trail, high-fiving all the snow covered pine boughs that reached for her as she passed. She balanced across every log and jumped from every tree stump that she met along the way.

Anja walked until she came to her fort, wedged between two cedar trees. She’d spent all summer dragging fallen branches to this spot from around the forest. She worked hard throughout the fall to build the shelter, complete with sturdy walls and a roof. As she crawled through the fort’s entrance, she wished she’d remembered to bring a flashlight. 

Anja sat in her dark fort in silence. For the first time all day, she felt calm. Being in the woods brought her comfort like nothing else could. Inside the fort were some of her favorite treasures. There were pieces of bark in all shapes and sizes, special sticks, magic rocks, acorn caps, clumps of pine needles, and a small pile of pine cones. Anja took off her mittens and held one of the magic rocks in her hand. It felt smooth and cool against her skin.

“Who cooks for you?” the sudden call of a barred owl jolted her from her peaceful moment.

“Who cooks for you?” the owl hooted again.

“My family cooks for me,” Anja whispered in reply.

She thought of the ham and mashed potatoes that her family would feast on for dinner. She could almost smell her Grammy’s rolls baking in the oven. Her mouth began to water as she pictured the apple pie her Grandpa had made for dessert.

“Who cooks for you?” the owl repeated, and Anja knew it was time to go home.

She put the magic rock in her pocket, pulled her mittens over her hands, and crawled out of her fort. She slowly made her way back to the house. Snow crunched beneath her boots, and her snow pants swished, softly, with each step. At the edge of the woods, the little blue house with the red and green lights came into view. 

Anja ran to the back door. She was about to turned the knob when she stopped. She pulled the magic rock out of her pocket and rubbed it against her cheek. It was smooth, and cold, and reminded her of her fort in the woods. Anja slid the rock back into her pocket before stepping inside. 

She kicked off her boots, removed her jacket, and climbed out of her snow pants. She hung all of her gear on the hook next to the door. Gripping her magic rock tightly in one hand, she headed for the living room.

Grandpa was snoring in the big brown recliner next to the fire place. Anja held her breath and tried to tiptoe past him, but the floor creaked, and Grandpa’s eyes fluttered open.

“Anja, my girl. You’re back. It must be almost time for dinner,” Grandpa said.

He smiled warmly, ​and Anja’s heart swelled once again with that feeling she couldn’t quite name.