The Bakery It was here, in front of this very window, that mother and I had to wait for the bus that took us home from town. We finished shopping for Aunt Rae’s slacks and Uncle Giff’s tie. There was a white blouse for Lynn and gray lined gloves for Joseph. When we went downtown, not only did mother take me to Lits for a grilled cheese sandwich with pickle on the plate, but she took me to see the REAL Santa Claus, not those fake ones ringing bells! She is happy with all her bundles in shopping bags within shopping bags (since the handles always break) and somehow, even in the rush of Christmas coming, she decides that it is ok if we miss the next bus because we are in the bakery picking out cookies for me. The German lady in the white dress with a blond colored hair net over her squashed curls, lets me taste the broken pieces from from the different trays. This testing is, I confess, a ruse since I already know I want the big two-part cookies covered with powered sugar and raspberry jam showing through a hole in the center. The German lady lifts each one with waxed paper and slips it gently into the crisp white bag standing open on the counter. After mother pays, we go back outside and wait for the bus. She pretends she’s not going to let me eat one now, but then gives in and I’m covered with sugar, head to foot and smiling on the bus as we hold hands and look forward to putting the candles in the windows tomorrow.