Winter Traditions, 2000s, by Carlee Guthrie

From MemoryArchive

Who: Carlee Guthrie
What: Christmas
When: Every winter
Where: My house

Every winter as far back as I can remember I’ve gone sledding in the first sled-worthy snowfall. I wake up one cold December morning and remember the weather forecast from the night before and run to one of the windows in my room. I expectantly look down at the ground and see that everything is covered in a blanket of white. I smile, thinking of the fun and frolic in the hours to come.

I go quietly down the stairs; I’m the first of my sisters awake this morning, something almost unheard of. Walking into the warm kitchen, I see my dad reading the morning paper as usual. He seems to have read my mind: there’s a breakfast feast of cocoa and buttered toast, juice, and grapes. I thank him and sit down with the Sunday comics section of the newspaper. Eventually, the rest of my family enters the kitchen, all a little less groggy than usual because of the new fallen snow.

After breakfast, my sisters and I call the neighborhood kids and my cousins who live close by. They’ll be over as soon as they can. My mom calls up the stairs and reminds us to layer up. I help my littlest sister, Laurel, get dressed since she’s only three. She reminds me of Ralphie’s little brother on 'A Christmas Story.' In the end, I have on four pairs of tube socks and about 5 layers. We were finally ready to brave the cold.

Walking outside, our feet crunch the snow and we can already see our cats’ dainty paw prints. I breathe in the fresh winter scent of nature. The snow seems to sparkle in the faint sunlight. We make our way to the other side of the house, since it has the steepest sledding hill. It takes a while because Laurel calls for my other two sisters and me to wait up. We carry all our old sleds and also a new one. We feel it’s sure to be the best sledding year ever.

After a few minutes of getting ourselves prepped for the sledding, we are joined by three of my neighbors, each of them looking like monsters coming towards us in their snow attire. Soon after, four of my cousins come out of the woods. They had to cross the creek to get here. One of them looks soaked.

When everyone is ready, we count up the sleds. We have just enough for each person. The first slide down is voted to be a race. I get on my assigned sled; it’s old but reliable. My oldest cousin counts down from three and as soon as she says go we’re off. The wind whips around us and I look to my right and left. I’m currently in the lead. All of a sudden, I see a flash of red and I get snow sprayed all over my face and my sled slows and then stops. Brushing myself off, I look up to see my cousin who’s a little younger than me, laughing. I don’t really care, though, because I’m already thinking about the next ride down.

Before long, our group is divided into teams for a snowball fight. Having woods all around our house helps so much. I’m the oldest on my team so I give everyone positions and tell some to start making ammunition. They immediately pack the snow together. The rest are in charge of making a fort. I feel sure that it will be the best fort yet. After many surprise attacks and snowballs to the face, we decide that it’s time for lunch.

All of us go into the big, warm house to thaw out. The rich smells from the kitchen float to our noses. Cinnamons, vanillas, spices: everything that reminds me of winter. Walking into the kitchen, I see the pumpkin spice candle flickering. My mom is standing by the stove, putting the finishing touches on her masterpiece. Just like every winter before, we drink homemade apple cider and hot chocolate, of course with marshmallows. It warms me up faster than anything else. Next, my mom sets out snow cream. I’ve always thought that it tastes just like melted ice cream.

I guess my favorite Christmas memory is not exactly specific. What I like is that it’s a tradition that continues each and every winter.