I thought of this at the Mall of America
last night—after we’d given up on Christmas

shopping and gone to a restaurant for pizza
and very large glasses of wine, which is

why we were at the Caribou coffee shop
waiting in line to order a dark-roast blend

and happened to overhear two women talking
about making Christmas cookies. And though

I did stay up until one in the morning last
week making Christmas spritz, and even

though I made a pan of fudge yesterday,
I still felt sad about all the cookies I would

never bother to make again: Russian tea
cakes, those little thumb-prints with the

Hershey’s kiss pressed into their faces,
white sugar cookies frosted and sprinkled

with red and green glitter, peanut brittle
and almond bark, pretzels dipped in white

chocolate, and—oh, the one everyone
loved—balls of peanut butter, Rice Krispies,

and powdered sugar, dipped in chocolate
melted with a sliver of wax to make them shine.