Knit Soldiers...

They bustled through the basement door, one after the other, like little foreign soldiers from an Arctic land far away. Bundled up to their eyes, it was a wonder they could see one step in front of their little feet. Layer by layer, bit by bit, the little knit soldiers shed their armor. A red mitten here, a green hat there, a scarf, a boot, a glove. Snow plopped in little frozen balls onto the thinly worn carpet. The great undressing soon revealed skinny, shivering, smiling children; noses, cheeks, and lips tickled with a rosy red that tempted to bely their impish adventures. Bouncing from foot to foot, holding their skinny arms to their plump bellies, the children were soon awarded towels and cloths from the closet to dry off and warm up. Grandma descended the stairs with a short stack of Grandpa’s old jeans. Only the older kids would be so lucky as to don such a coveted delight! This was the only time Grandpa’s wardrobe was up for barter. The rest of the army were snatched up and snuggled into blankets or spare pj’s that Mothers and aunts were thoughtful enough to pack before heading out on such a wintry holiday morning.

Only after being deemed dry enough to be set loose were the children allowed to stampede up the basement steps, the younger ones following the wiser older ones into the kitchen where the waft of hot chocolate with marshmallows beckoned. Greedy fingers snatched up the bag of marshmallows because the allotted three in each cup was never enough! “Be careful!” “Both hands!” “It’s hot!” “Sit at the table to drink!” The anonymous instructions bellowed from the bowels of the basement. Dutifully, they each shuffled and scooted into any available seat, some two bums to a chair, just to speed up the introduction of warm, smooth, comforting chocolate to cold lips. Silence.