It was Christmas Eve and we were at my grandparents cabin, were we where every year, I loved that place more than anything in the world, it was my second home. My favourite part wasn’t the meal or the presents it was the time we spent together on the hill with your toboggans, speeding down the hill, trying to find a way to go faster. It was alway the ten of us out there my aunt and uncle and their 3 children, my parents and my two siblings, and we always made the most amazing memories. We always got new tobogans and were adding to the collection, we had so many we had to chose which one we walked over to the big hill.
It was always just us on the hill, no one was ever around on Christmas Eve, it always felt like we where in the middle of no where and it felt nice to be isolated. Grandma and Grandpa would only come out for a little, it was always cold and to long for them outside. Aunt Claudia would never come out, she would always say that “it was to cold out for her warm Mexican blood,” she could never be outside for long then 15 minutes, which still makes me laugh. Her kids never stayed out that long either they would barely make the hour out outside and once they went in so did their dad, so there was only the ten of us left out there.
We would always go out around 7:00 pm, because it had to be completely dark, then we dress in many layers because being cold was always not an option, we would never want to go inside. We would spend hours on the hill, walking up and sliding down more times then I can count, we would go down in pairs, or we would race, or see who could the farthest at the bottom. Sometimes we would take a break and just play in the snow, having snowball fights, and it was always kids versus parents, we would hid on the other side of the hill/road in the bushes. Then we would go back to sliding because we where starting to get cold and the long walk up the hill would let you warm up. These moments made me feel truly Canadian, being on that hill in the cold making memories that would last a lifetime, and it is a Canadian way to spend time with your family.
After hours on the hill we would all be tried enough that it was time to go in for the night this would be around 11 that night, and grandma would have the hot chocolate made and in the snowman jug that sat on the counter keep it warm, we always added marshmallows, it may have been more marshmallow than hot chocolate. We would all sit around the table drink hot chocolate with anticipation for tomorrow, for Christmas until it was time to head home for the night and go to bed. We would pack things up the gifts and the leftovers to go home we where all tried t that time and dad would drive us home and by the time we made the drive home we would all be sleeping, and dad would carrying in my little brother. Those memories on that hill with my family we always be held dearly in my heart, they are a piece of me and the will forever be important to me. In these moments and memories I feel truly Canadian spending time like that on a hill in the middle of nowhere, it may be stereotypical, but it truly makes me feel like a Canadian.
As I read your story, I found many well-used literary devices and creative writing strategies. There is rich text where you state “we would spend hours on the hill, walking up and sliding down more times than I can count; we would go down in pairs, we would race, or see who could go the furthest at the bottom”. Your description of place painted a beautiful picture in my head of what your grandparents’ cabin may have looked like and how that isolated hill so strongly tied you to family. It was clear that a toboggan holds a great deal of importance to you and that this artifact represents many important values related to family and tradition. Your description of the hill makes it come alive for the reader, giving a sense of life and excitement, consequently personifying the toboggans themselves.
I feel as though I could have been with you through the tobogganing adventures. I still love the whole process, from choosing my sled to hearing my heart pound as I reach the bottom of a steep hill. Your mention of having many toboggans to choose from reminded me of my own adventures with siblings and cousins across the road from my grandparents’ place. They lived down the road from us about a mile, so tobogganing was a common occurrence in the winter for us, as we tried to dodge the trees that surrounded us. I can relate to your mention of racing, as we would often try to pass each other on our very narrow path downhill. I wonder if the emotions of freedom and invincibility were as real for you as they were for me on those speedy treks down the hill.
Another personal connection that I can make from your story is that of having a second home. My husband traps in the winter, and the cabin that we stay at is a second home to me. I can relate to your feelings of having no one else around and being geographically isolate, as our cabin in miles into the forest with no other human activity in sight.
I would love to hear more about your tobogganing experience specifically. Do you recall a particular moment on the hill? What emotions did you feel as you sat at the top, waiting to begin your experience? What type of toboggan did you choose in the instance? I know that the hill means a lot to you, so I am curious about a particular moment that stands out in your memory.
You touched on many understandings and beliefs that I hold about being Canadian. I believe that large family outings are common in Saskatchewan, and probably Canada as a whole. You mentioned that there were ten of you at the cabin, and that it was tradition. I think that having a cabin and calling it a second home is also fairly common in our country. The cold weather and the need to wear many layers of clothing is also typical, and crucial, Canadian behavior in the winter.
Thank you for sharing your story. I enjoyed reading it!