The Best Part of the Holidays

Corrina Leatherwood |

12/22/2007 - 12/23/07

Third Place, Children’s Essays
A commitment to helping others lights Corrina Leatherwood’s young life — and brings life to her story. Leatherwood makes good use of detail and dialogue to introduce us to her pancakes, family, friends, the people who support her fundraising efforts — and the energetic protagonist herself.

My eyes fluttered open. It took me but a moment to realize what day it was. I got up, dressed in some cozy clothing and went to the kitchen. Nobody else was awake, so I started breakfast. I got ingredients for delicious pancakes from scratch.

I turned on some music and continued to get everything I needed.

I retrieved a big mixing bowl from a drawer and began to cook. I had memorized a great pancake recipe. I found a cooking pan, put some butter in it and set it on the stove. I mixed all the ingredients together until it all ran smoothly. I grabbed a small measuring cup and immersed it in oil before plunging it into the smooth batter.

I scooped up the desired amount and slowly poured it on the pan. I heard the "fizzzzzzzz" of the heated pan connecting with the batter. The batter slowly spread across the entire pan.

I had figured out the perfect timing for the pancake flipping. It had taken me many a holiday morning to work out the exact timing, but I finally mastered it. The first side always got 22 seconds, and the second side always got 18.

I continued on to make many more pancakes, big and small, shaped and warped, all unique. I set aside about half and set the rest upon the table. They were still warm. I covered both plates of pancakes with cloths so they would stay warm and then proceeded to set the table.

While I was retrieving the maple syrup, my mother walked into the kitchen, fully dressed and very at peace. She smiled and said "good morning" to me, then sat at the table. She seemed to notice the kitchen counters, which bore unmistakable signs of cooking remains.

"I was just about to go clean it," I said.

"Thank you," my mom said, "for everything."

"No problem," I said, getting a sponge from under the stove. By the time my dad was up, I had finished cleaning the kitchen and had already tucked into some yummy pancakes. I reveled in the fruits of my labor.

My dad was wearing a robe and seemed awed that we were both up before him.

"Have a seat," I said.

He sat down, evidently flabbergasted. He stared at the pancakes and then looked at me. "YOU made these?" he asked, playfully.

"Why is that so hard to believe?" I said back, rolling my eyes and pushing the plate toward him.

He took some, smiling, and proceeded to gobble them up. When we were done, there were still some left so I got a big Tupperware container, put what was left of the pancakes — including the pancakes I had set aside — in it, closed the container, sat back down at the table and addressed my parents.

"So," I said, "who's coming with me?"

"I will," my dad volunteered.

"Great," I said.

"Dress warmly," my mom advised both of us.

"We will," I said — and went to grab my coat, hat, scarf and gloves. I got my boots on and then grabbed the Tupperware and supported it under one arm. Dad finally showed up in his fluffy down jacket.

"Let's GO!" I said, swinging the door open.

It took the better part of half an hour to get there, and when we finally arrived at the house, there were cars parked all along the side of the street. We quickly ran inside and gathered what we would be splitting into three groups.

"Sorry we're late," I said, taking my shoes and setting the pancake-laden Tupperware on a treat-infested table.

"That's all right," my friend answered. "You guys can go ahead and go in the group going to the downtown Borders — that makes things even.

"OK," she continued. "Every group grab one or two signs and the treats you brought, a fold-up table, and a shoe box for the money." Everyone followed suit and headed out the door.

"Borders group" my dad called, and they all gathered. "You can put treats in the back. Then go ahead and get in the car, OK?"

We set up the table the moment we got there, set the treats on it, then put up the signs.

Our first customer showed up. "So, what do you have going here?" he asked.

"We're raising money to help get presents for the kids whose families cannot afford them," my friend piped in. "You can make any donation and then help yourself to one of our delectable treats," my dad said.

"That's a great thing to be doing," the customer said handing my dad a $5 bill and taking a brownie. "Thans" was what came out of his mouth, though we knew he meant "thanks."

We got quite a few customers. One person donated $20 and didn't even want a treat. The only thing that was unpleasant was the cold. My nose felt as though it would fall off it was so cold. We ended up staying for about two hours and got a good deal of donations.

We headed back to the house we had first come to and discovered that the two other groups had already returned and were counting their donations. We proceeded to do the same. The six of us all sat together and counted up the money. I counted all the ones, and came up with 37 one-dollar bills. We ended up with a total of $246! All the teams seemed to have gotten 200 some-odd dollars, so we came up with over $700.

Overall, I thought we had really made a difference that holiday season. I hope that we brought a little more joy into the lives of those kids. It just shows that helping others really does reap its rewards. It's amazing to know that by devoting two hours to a simple bake sale, we can make kids much happier.

Corrina Leatherwood, 12, lives in Santa Fe.
She is a seventh-grade student at the Santa Fe School
for the Arts and Sciences.