Every year nan brought Quaker oats in a bag to my house.
It must sound so stupid, and at one point it was to me, too. But every Christmas Eve, she showed up with a cake or cookies and a big ziploc filled with Quaker oats and glitter and God knows what else mixed up and labeled "Reindeer Food". I loved it when I believed in Santa, because at that point we didn't have a chimney so she taught me that the reindeer came to my house by the food we sprinkled on the lawn every year the night before. I loved doing that until about the 5th grade when I gave up on Santa and I felt it was dumb, because all we were really doing was making bird food. But every year we sprinkled that damn bag on the front lawn in 10 degree weather, right after our traditional Christmas Eve dinner and right before we had tea and they left. It was last year that she really showed how sick she was getting, but even then she showed up with the same bag of reindeer food and we sprinkled it on the lawn. This year you won't be showing up with your Christmas sweater or your desert or the reindeer food. And as stupid as it sounds, tomorrow will not feel right. This year, I won't be able to tell you that I won Homecoming princess or that I received honorable Mention all-county. I cant tell you about school or that Scranton and Immaculata and all the other schools answered me and are coming to see me play. I can't show you the blisters from my junior prom heels and you won't see me drive and pick up pop up for dinner now that I have my permit. I can't whisper all the things I got my parents for Christmas so you can assure me they'll love them. And we can't freeze together while we cover the front lawn with Quaker Oats and glitter. And I'll miss you, so unbelievably much. Merry Christmas Eve, Nanny. I love you
