As I enter my house through the front door I hear a familiar sound.
I hear the sizzle of the frying pan. And my dad clanks his wooden spoon against the pan, as he fries the new recipe for egg rolls. Trying to find a meal that fits all of my [small] family’s appetite is a challenge. Now that he has found this one we eat it constantly. When he is done frying the egg rolls we gather around our homemade table we constructed. (The smell of the fresh wood drifted off this table for months.) As my dad sets down the egg rolls we fight like cats and dogs to grab the crispest, freshest ones. We bite into the crunchy shell and the juices from the vegetables drip onto my saucy plate below. We all eat two or three rolls, then go and rinse our plates under the steaming faucet before we put them on the drying rack to air dry.
After we are done cleaning up we resume our normal duties until we hear the sound of honking outside, signaling time to go to cheer. I dart outside to my friends car, then I run straight back inside to grab a jacket to shield me from the cold. As we drive we open the window to feel the wind whip at our faces and to let the cold nip at the tips of our noses. Cold days like these are my favorites because they remind me of fun days and Christmas.
