the winters i remember


From my childhood I remember only the glory of winter. How it came so quick in northwestern Ontario – fall but a month of a tease cutting summer off and ushering in the brisk cold of the upper latitudes. It all happened so quickly. The worst winters were when it didn’t snow. We remember these as dark times. But as long as the snow came we were golden – we were alive – we had a brilliant world in front of us with more opportunity than every-day summer could provide. When we were kids we didn’t care of sun-filled skies or short-wearing weather. All we knew was this was ours – we had such pride for our home. We knew summer would come – but while the cold-weather was here we were going to do the things we could only do with the short hours of daylight we had. These were the glories of winter – snow-forts, gangs and hidden stashes of snowballs, sudden blizzards that white-out the street, snowbanks so high we thought we would surely die should we fall from them, throwing skates over our hockey stick blades to walk to the rink, successfully finding a puck in the snow, cold feet, chapped lips, see-through trees, mom bringing us hot-chocolate, road hockey and pick-up games, jumping from the monkey bars, skidding down tire-tracks on our boots, pulling out the most biggest piece of crusted snow, watching the northern lights, jumping out of bed ready for a snowday, going to the big hill to toboggan, skiing, wishing we had helmets, snow-sculpting contests, winter fairs, trips to the country, hayrides and spending more time running after the wagon, cross-country skiing at the oddest of times, snow-shoe baseball or at least being able to run in them, frost-bitten ears, walking home from grandma’s in the snow, creating the first footprints on freshly fallen snow, having to make our way across a field after more than one foot of snow, not getting a snow day, the Christmas lights coming down, that one last snowfall, the rink melting, hitting rocks with our skis, the first time someone wears shorts. And then one day it’s over. But we were kids. And we knew it would be back. So we tucked away our winter gear and got ready for summer – spring but a month of a tease before it was ushered away by the heat and sunshine – all wasted away at camp on some lake with our cousins and summer-time friends, just like the summer before.

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About humanbeen

I'm a has-been that was. I'm a dreamer that does.
This entry was posted in childhood, home, summer, weather, winter and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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