Willow Gilbert ENGL 1021 Oral Storytelling

The speaker describes their journey to their family cottage in Bancroft, Ontario. They note the familiar sights along the way but mention that this year feels different. They arrive at the cottage and are greeted by family members, but they feel sadness because their Nana is no longer able to join them. They spend time together, enjoying activities, sharing stories, and playing games. Despite the absence of their Nana, they continue their annual traditions and acknowledge her role in keeping the family close. We picked up our rental car from the Toronto Pearson Airport and headed on the three-hour drive to our family cottage in Bancroft, Ontario. The rows of oak trees, winding single-lane roads, and small lakes we passed on the way all looked the same, but the drive this year felt different. We reached the turnoff and headed down the long, bumpy road, the one rental car companies have nightmares about, until we reached the opening in the trees where our little wooden cottage sat on display. The lake was calm, creating a mirror image of the rocks and vibrant green trees above it, with the only ripples coming from the loons as they looked for food. The sun warmed my face, lifting up everything below it, emphasizing the vibrant colours of the lake's natural scenery. My cousins came rushing out to greet us, with smiles from ear to ear, soaking wet and still in their life jackets, followed by my aunts and uncles with open arms, eager to receive their hugs. Then it hit me again, as I looked around at the smiling faces of my family members, a cold wave of sadness passed through me, as I realized my Nana's smile was missing from the crowd. Things were different this year. My Nana, the glue of our family, was no longer able to attend our annual August-long weekend traditions. As soon as we were unpacked, we threw on our bathing suits and jumped into the lake. The cool water woke us up from our jet lag, washing away the travel day from our faces, allowing our skin to bask in the sun as we floated on our backs. You could hear the roaring laughter and joy of the family bouncing along the surface of the lake. As we gathered around the dining room table for dinner that evening, enjoying the creamy smooth mashed potatoes, teriyaki salmon, and roasted balsamic vegetables, the seat at the head of the table sat empty. In between bites, we chatted amongst each other, catching up on the events and changes we had missed since our last time we saw each other at Christmas, pausing every so often to share stories about our Nana. It was quieter that evening when we played marbles, followed by endless rounds of London Rummy. There was less yelling and other people besides my Nana that year were winning. Now the jury is still out on whether or not my Nana may have been a serial cheater when it came to card games, or if her 92 times around the sun allowed her to hone her craft, but her winning streaks were always under question. Our annual family weekend felt different that year, but our traditions remained the same. Our Nana, the glue of our family, ensured that we remained close and made an effort to see each other more than just once a year at Christmas. She was, and will always be, the sunshine of our family.