A Guinea Pig Christmas Essay

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A Guinea Pig Christmas Jingle, jingle, jingle. The sound of horse drawn carriages and the cheerful hollering of young children is what I heard as I was biking home that frigid Christmas Eve from the aviation school for which I came here. Even though I have been a resident of Cincinnati for several months, there was still always a new sight everywhere I looked, compared to being back in England where everything was overly familiar. However, I was lucky that Lynne, my aunt, and Kent, my uncle, were as welcoming as they were, for if they had not housed me, I would have not known a soul here, nor would I have had a hot, home cooked meal every night. It really was quite exquisite though, the sight of children having snowball fights. There was always that feeling of complete childishness that came from having a snowball fight. Who knew if it was from the feeling of cold, melting ice down your clothes, or if it was from the feeling of superiority over all your mates after you had claimed victory? Whichever was the cause, it was a glorious feeling, that which I enjoyed immensely. When I got home around five in that afternoon, I was greeted by the smokey smell of chestnuts over the open fire, the mixture of spicy incense and aromatic cigar smoke, and the anticipated Christmas Eve lamb. Although the lamb was not cooked, nor was it cooking, the smell of the herbs and seasonings that coated it was delectable, almost as if you could taste it at that very moment. While Kent was mentoring Ross, my cousin, how to roast chestnuts to perfection, Lynne and Vanessa, my other cousin, were preparing all the dishes for tomorrow evening's supper. It was an enchanting sight — father and son sitting by the fire, mother and daughter cooking in the kitchen, the dancing silhouettes cast upon the walls by the stunningly decorated Christmas tree, the classic Christmas carols in the

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