Winter's Breath

You will do it a million times without giving it a moment of your time. Yet, in the winter things change, your exhale has life to it. You watch it disperse, often slowing down to change the shape of the air on exhalation. A simple, yet beautiful distraction during quiet moments. One so profound we notice our surroundings.

We spend all year running around, completing tasks, making money, and trying to live out our best dreams. How many times do you hear “This year went by fast”? Yet, in the rush of holiday shopping and cooking; we are able to stop and slow down. It’s not just us but all life. Nature continues to do its thing, but we are able to notice more the birds and the squirrels, deer in the fields, and the stillness over the vast snowy fields.

No matter where you are, most of us try to return home for our families, for our traditions. We gather for presents and food, gatherings and the sharing of our years. We boast on what we have accomplished and adore those nearest to us. We return to our original locations for this because that is what matters to us. For my family, we return to the snowy hillside of Grandma and Grandpa’s house.

Locations matter even for those yearly rituals. Sure we love visiting grandma and grandpa, receiving gifts, and playing with our cousins, but that isn’t the best part. It never was.The driveway is sloped and goes for a good 30-50 feet which leads straight into the garage.

~ This is where the ritual begins ~

I never truly learned what event begins the ritual, but the signs are there. Grandpa Joe rises up from his chair, opening the sliding door, he slowly walks towards the garage. This walk signals everything. Is he 50, 60, 70? Couldn’t tell ya, but with every step in the snow taken, his back straightens up, shoulders wide, all signs of age disappearing except the grays in the beard. Someone always notices. The first to understand what is coming always calls the attention of the family to Grandpa’s stride. Grandchildren come running with the joyous laughter and glee filling the air, drawing everyone to the spectacle.

Within a 40 foot trek, the old grandpa we know is replaced by the young energetic man that started this family, the one that leads everyone to his garage.

Grandpa doesn’t just open one of the barn doors, he swings open both sides of the double door as if to be unleashing the beast inside. At the start of the performance, those seeking attendance surround the gracious host with enthusiasm. Grandchildren come running with the joyous laughter and glee filling the air, drawing everyone to the spectacle.

Hanging off the walls are sleds hand crafted by the man himself. Not of plastic, but wood and steel. No curves or seat belts, but 2x4 plank raft floating above blades that can cut any child open with ease. We wait anxiously as grandpa takes the sleds off the wall and sharpens each blade. No danger is too great to slow down these sleds, we need all the speed we can get!

“You don’t need to sharpen those every time dad!” my mother shouts.

“Now if we're going to do it, we're going to do it right.”

Grandpa Joe has four daughters, and each one brings their spouse. Like clockwork, mothers warn the fathers to be careful and not hurt the grandchildren. He ignores them, the fathers all reassure the mothers that everything will be fine. Nothing will go wrong.

One by one the sleds are passed out to the fathers. Each one takes a child and begins sliding down the driveway. Roll overs happen, mothers gasp and children laugh. No order, just chaos as children frantically exclaim it's their turn.

The driveway is fun, but the road down the hill is where it’s at. The road descends for a quarter mile with a left curve turn at the bottom. There is no slow down, it’s full speed into the snowbank. You will crash! That is why we are here.

Ask a child what his favorite part of the sled ride is. Some may say speed, but many love the thrill of the crash; slamming head first into the snowbank. The bigger the hill, the steeper the terrain, the louder the joyful screams fill the air.You have to love the neighbors in the quiet countryside, they know the difference between screams of joy and screams of terror. I wonder how many of them smiled when we were filling the air.

I am amazed over the simple fact we had hundreds of crashes and roll overs; yet not one person was ever cut by those sleds.Maybe a bruise here or there,but no chipped teeth, no broken bones, and no special ER visits.

The crashes were always the same. Standing up with soaked clothing. Laughing and looking at the top of the hill where children were waiting for their turn and parents watched patiently. As the laughing slowed, I would notice the cold warm air materializing in front of my face. Life always slows down and we see what really matters.

When all of the kids have had their fun, Grandma calls us in for hot cocoa and presents. She brings order to the chaos and allows the stillness to return. As we grab our cocoa and surround the Christmas tree, I stand at the sliding door waiting for Grandpa to put everything away and join us.

Looking up watching the snow fall, I take one large breath and slowly exhale. With my eyes closed, I feel the comforting embrace of the cold still night.

Yet, the still winter night is broken with a single sentence.

“Great grandpa, wait up!”

“Hurry up uncle RooRoo.” my niece waved me to follow.

My eyes open to a new mob forming at the barn, those of the next generation; those that call me dad or uncle. Following the crowd towards the barn, I can’t help but laugh as the ritual begins again. The children storm the door, parents closely behind, my grandma standing by the sliding door just behind her daughters, and where is grandpa? Same place he always is, making the perilous journey from the sliding door to the barn. I couldn’t tell you how old he is at this point. Maybe 80, maybe 90. What I can tell you is the walk hasn’t changed. He starts slowly, hunched over. Step by step his back straightens out, his posture becomes tall and youth returns.

He lives for this.

As the barn is thrown open, “Donald go grab the sleds for me will ya. Andrew, get my sharpening tools.”

~ The more things change, the more they stay the same ~

I’ve been in this barn a thousand times, but this is always different. I am not here to chat or stand near the fire, it's to help prepare so the kids can enjoy the night. It’s labor, but the best kind of labor; using our hands to create what is needed for the ones we love.

As we help prepare the sleds, the three of us continue to laugh and smile as we watch the children bounce with anticipation. One by one, we sharpen the blades and hand off the sleds to fathers, each one taking a child off to the driveway for their ride.

Grandpa takes the last sled, grabs the hand of the smallest grandchild and walks to the top of the driveway. How no child ever hits a car is beyond me, but I love watching this.

“Hurry up dad” my littlest cries.

With a smile on my face, I pause to take in the cold quiet night. 364 days all lead up to this night.

With one final exhale;

~ Life may not be fair, but it’s still good ~