Family BBQ fun

As a child my cousins lived in Newmarket, a small town in Canada. Of course my aunt and uncle lived there too, but it was always a tale of “going to my cousins house.”

Growing up in the city of Toronto, this felt like a world away, a northern escape of sorts. It’s not that far.

For many years I spent copious amounts to time hanging out there. Finding wilderness adventures to go on. Winter sports when the snow fell and endless hours outside during the summer months. This was the mid-90s, we jumped, hopped, giggled until our faces hurt and got up to all the fun the lengths of our imaginations would allow.

The house sat on a big lot of land, a vast grassy front yard and a back yard that had all of the toys a kid / and the adults could need. My uncle and older cousins had also constructed a dirt bike trail; complete with ramps, jumps and lifts. It was an outdoor oasis.

Each summer my aunt would have a huge family BBQ. All of the adults and their children would come up for food, fund and laughter. My uncle can be a grumpy guy, short tempered guy who likes his stuff in a particular orderly fashion. He had a beautifully rustic well maintained home, both insides and out; pristine BBQ, beautiful organized patches of veggies growing. I loved being there.

The summer I was 7, my aunt had us all up at their place for the annual summer hoorah. All the parents and family friends mixed and mingled; groups of people catching up, beers and cocktails flowing, meats and veggies grilling. It was the epitome of a summer good time.

My cousins, wide range of us varying across 10 or so years, decided to play a game of the classic TAG. We counted ourselves off, we conducted the most fair determiner of who would be it, “eenie meanie miny moe” and of course began running around like wild chickens set free.

Ive always been a shy and quiet human. My demeanour is gentle with a touch of passion when ignited, but I was always well behaved and truthfully liked to be accepted and liked, despite not caring for people too much.

Running was different. I was a pretty fast kid. I ran track most of my childhood and so TAG was always fun for me. I think much of our generation grew up giggly and taunting furiously as we raced about. I loved running until my asthmatic lungs couldn’t take it any more.

That was until this very day.

Often what would happen during a family gathering is that the front door and back glass door of the home would remain open. People were constantly going through the main floor, food moving from grill to the kitchen and onto the picnic tables.

During our game of tag, I was being chased. I ran from the backyard around the outside of the house to the front yard. In efforts to lose my opponent I ran inside through the open front door. Sprinting full steam ahead, through the front foyer, across the living room, my eyes narrowed onto the backyard and I raced towards the opened back door ....

My world came to a halt, and then the panic set it. I could not feel a thing, my body frozen. The entire party had stopped. I could see a blur of frantic faces. Suddenly a flurry of adults shouting and running towards me.

Warm blood running down my face.

I looked up, face burning in embarrassment, tears welling in my eyes. I spotted my mom in the group, a mix of laughter and panic on her face. Then the greatest dread of all, I saw my uncle standing in pure disbelief.

The world come back to view. All the aunts, uncles, cousins and friends stood in complete shock.

It turns out the back door was in fact open, but the barely visible screen door had been pulled shut. As I barrelled towards the backyard, I plowed right through the screen, tearing the mesh off and ripping the frame right off its tracks.

Eventually my mom calmed my anxiety attack down, cleaned up the blood and attempted to convince me that “nobody cared.”

In standard fashion the party carried on just fine. The screen got repaired and all was well.

However, it is safe to say that every now and again someone in my family brings up that story with a “remember when Hillary...” followed by a light-hearted chuckle from the group; as I sink away in from this life-long story of embarrassment. Despite that day, there isn’t a thing I would change about the childhood fun we had each summer!