Growing up, Christmas was celebrated with my aunt and uncle and six cousins as my family would make the seasonal pilgrimage from Prince George to Kamloops.
Walking into their trailer, we were greeted by the lingering aroma of cigarettes mixed with the rich smell of dinner cooking on the stove and an inviting whiff of chocolate. There was always chocolate. Nanaimo bars or brownies were a given but sometimes, if I was lucky (my aunt did spoil me now and then), it would be her legendary cookie sheet chocolate fudge cake.
As someone who can’t resist sweets, the thin sheet of chocolate cake (still resting in the cookie sheet it was baked in), topped with a quarter inch of perfectly crafted fudge, was the epitome of melting in your mouth delectable delight. Both families knew that between the sisters, my mom may be a slightly better cook, but my aunt… she was the aficionado of all things sweet.
I was probably seven or eight the Christmas when I was the one sleeping on the floor in the porch bedroom. The same bedroom that was next to THE freezer. A repository full of every imaginable baked treat - each of them an explosion of sugary goodness. It seemed to hold more than eight children and four adults could possibly consume during the festivities of the season.
One day, when no one was around, I went to look inside. Locked.
It became one of those crossroad moments in life. When desire combines with ingenuity and turns into larceny. With a metal spatula, I managed to slide the latch open.
Oh, my eyes gleaned with anticipation as I raised the lid. There they were, container upon container filled to overflowing with wonderous creations. I doubt I squealed with glee but looking back now I can’t be sure I didn’t.
It wasn’t much later that my cousins came through the door, catching me chocolate handed. Being the good cousin I was, I offered to share with them. Being the slightly annoyed cousins at having had to share their bedroom, and that I had been a bit spoiled that year (there was a warm cookie sheet chocolate fudge cake on the counter when we arrived), they both promptly reported me to our parents.
Although my mom was rather upset about it all, my uncle just laughed and laughed.
Thinking back now on all those Christmas holidays spent with my aunt and uncle and cousins; twelve of us all in a three-bedroom mobile home with a porch, I couldn’t tell you a single gift I was ever given (though I’m certain my aunt gave me a Lego set or two).
What I do remember is the cookie sheet chocolate fudge cake. Our parents sitting around, telling stories. Snowball fights and tobogganing followed by hot chocolate afterwards. Playing cards and board games into the late evening and the constant laughter.
As this Christmas approaches, I’m looking forward to our seven children being home and their cousins coming over. There are boardgames stacked in the closet and toboggans ready by the door. The hot chocolate mix and marshmallows are in the cupboard and the brownies are already in the freezer.
I wish you and your family a Christmas that you can look back on for years to come with laughter and a smile.