Traditions

Living in the north, the full moon was always the coldest nights of the month, but no matter the cold, our family had a tradition. We would go out to the old barn atop the hill just behind our house, and camp out. My grandmother participated with us, until she couldn’t stand the cold and then she would only stay with us for the campfire, and dad would walk her down to the house. As they walked down to the house, my sister, Alys, and I stayed alone in the barn and would tell ghost stories, trying to scare one another. By the time our father would come back we would scream at the sound of his approaching footsteps. He once caught on to the scary stories, and would try to scare us as well. It was nice -- the warm cackling of the fire, the soft glow from the moon hitting their faces just the right way, and laughter surrounding it all.

By the time the fire died out, dad would have me and my sister gathered in the barn, on a sleeping pile we made from a haystack and blankets, and we would all talk about the things on our mind until we fell asleep.

On the stormy nights of the full moon, we would stay the entire night in the barn, playing board games, card games, and everything of the like. These times were our one family bonding moments that we got, and it was the one time that we could be real and honest with each other.

As you grow up, you begin to wonder if things will stay the same forever, and being the older sibling I was afraid that I would be the first one to break the tradition, having been too busy with my own personal life. That wasn’t the case, though. It was a few years back, when Alys was barely old enough to drive that she had gotten into a car accident with one of her friends, not making it out alive. Since then it was hard for my father to bring himself out to the barn to continue family night. I didn’t blame him though, a part of me was reluctant to go out there.

It wasn’t until a year later that my dad and grandma had asked me to join them around the fire up at the barn again, and saw they had saved a seat for my sister. This time, around the fire, we would tell stories about her life, cherishing the memories we had with her. When my father walked my grandmother back down to the house, I would begin talking to Alys, telling her how much I missed her, and what was going on in my life at the time, just like I normally would have, had she been really sitting there next to me.

My father and I kept this tradition up again, and once I started a family of my own, I would bring my partner up and my kids to visit their grandfather, staying the night in the barn every full moon. Being able to see my kids love the tradition that I grew up with with my sister, I finally understood why my dad loved spending time with my sister and I up there. I got to hear my kids come up with scary stories, trying to spook one another and come up with their own games to play only to be worn out by the end of the night. Gathering in the barn to spend the night, we all curled up under blankets to keep warm till the morning.