Winter Vision (Kerry)

Write about a childhood memory of snow

Excitement erupted in the car as we saw the familiar giant pine trees along the fence line to our left. Dad slowed down in order to make a surprise entrance. There was no dust trail now. We reckoned no-one in the house would have seen us coming. Once we turned the last corner before the house we were hidden behind the tall cedar hedge.

“Where’s the comb?” Mum asked. “Everybody tidy up. Here’s a hanky to clean off your faces. Kerry, help Randall with his, will you? Quickly." 

I sensed the tension in her voice. We'd been in the car for nearly three hours. It’d been a long trip with five kids, and no seat belts to keep us under control. But it was important for Mum to show us at our best because this was her family home, where she had lived before going away to high school and University and before she and Dad got married. Grandma and Grandpa lived here still with Mum’s twin, Uncle Wilfred, and her big sister, Auntie Flo.

Dad drove the car slowly up the driveway and brought it to a halt at the back gate. We scrambled out, a little shy now that we had arrived. Our attempt at stealth had been thwarted. Auntie Flo was at the gate. She stood waiting, hands planted on her wide hips and a welcoming smile on her face. 

“Hello, everybody,” she said warmly. “Did you have a good trip? Nobody car sick this time I hope? My goodness, I hardly know who’s who. You’ve all grown so much in the time I’ve been away. Who’s this big boy?”

She picked Randall up and gave him a cuddle. He was not impressed and started to cry so Auntie Flo handed him to Mum. The rest of us were used to Auntie Flo. She’d come and looked after us when Mum went into hospital to have Randall the year before. She was much stricter than Mum. She wouldn’t let us leave the table until we had eaten everything on our plates. But we loved the stories she told us. She was a war widow, very independent, and had taken several trips overseas. After Mum came home from the hospital, Auntie Flo headed off to England again. To recover, we thought. This was the first time we’d seen her since she’d come back.

“What was England like?” I asked her bravely. “Did you bring any presents home?”

She smiled secretly, turned and strode up the path to the back door, with all of us in her wake. I breathed in the perfume of jasmine as we brushed past it. The spring garden was a feast of colour. Garden beds of lilies and annuals lined the path. In the distance I could see Grandma’s special roses behind the vegetable garden. 

Auntie Flo opened the screen door. It sighed in that particular way it had of conveying that it was doing you a favour by being so obliging. We were ushered into the dark kitchen and stood in a rough huddle near the stove where it was warm. As our eyes adjusted to the darkness Auntie Flo produced a basket. She put it on the table in front of us, pulled out the first treasure and handed it to me.

I felt the weight of it in my hand. It was a transparent glass ball on a wooden base. I peered in. There were two skaters inside, perfect in every detail. They were gliding around a skating rink beside a dark forest.

“Shake it a little,” Auntie Flo said.

I gave it a momentary shake and a miracle happened. Tiny wet snowflakes filled the sky with light. Gently they fell to the ground. Some settled on the trees, some on the skaters. I was entranced by the unexpected magic of the snow.

“It’s wonderful. Thank you,” I cried, giving it another shake.

“When you’re a bit older I’ll take you with me to Europe,” Auntie Flo said. “Then you can see real snow and real skaters.”

But she never did.