A harsh gust of wind touched the surface of my skin, tingling like sour candy does. I peered at the winter scene beyond my vision, composed of nothing except endless swirls of snowflakes falling on the barren sycamore trees that still bore seasonal berries, almost too ripe, indicated by a dark crimson tint. I had pleaded my friend to come explore the forest near my lovely two-story house, an act of pursuing my inner child. We trudged through the glistening, thickly layered snow, hoping to find something, anything that would bring my heart’s content. At a distance, I saw a faint source of illumination that served as a visual impetus to keep moving forward no matter the uncertainty it came with. We had finally reached a spacious grove surrounded by evergreens, stringed with a series of vibrant, ornate christmas lights. My eyes widened, glowing to imitate planets in the night sky. I saw a warm, lively neighborhood in the forefront, with small cottages and gray smoke huffing through sooted chimneys. The two of us, skipping down the streets of this strangely magical village, we noticed gradually that something was off, that the houses were not made of your typical burgundy brick. They smelled of spices, sweet cinnamon sugar and fresh ginger. On impulse, I dashed up to take a lick of the walls. My dear assumption was right! The houses were made entirely of gingerbread and decorated pleasantly with pieces of candy of every kind to exist, from gumdrops and peppermints to marshmallows for snowmen. The seemingly snow that laid on the rooftops like a soft fluffy blanket was vanilla icing, and as I took a peek inside the glass-candied windows, I gasped in awe yet again. The inhabitants were gingerbread men and women! A gingerbread man opened the jagged nutty chocolate-coated door and invited us inside for a brief meal. The interior was constructed using edible goods as well, and as I sat down on the sugar wafer table prepared, I thanked the gingerbread family for taking us in. The plate consisted of mini-shaped food all made of gummy, consuming every last bit of it. I had a great surge of dopamine afterwards, prancing through the village like I was 6 years old again. It’s been quite some time since I felt the old spirit of Christmas. I fell into the powdered sugar snow out of control, and shrieked in laughter. My friend joined me, and we ended up making snow angels under the bleak night sky.