A Tale of Two Tables
Growing up, my family and I would spend every Christmas Eve at my Aunt’s house. We’d pack up the car in the early evening and make the hour-or-so drive from Milton, Ontario to St. Catharines. St. Catharines was where my folks grew up, and is still, to this day, the hometown of much of my extended family – cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents.
On the drive, we’d always tune in to the CBC to hear Alan Maitland reading The Shepherd. Year, after year, we would be sure to leave at just the right time in order to hear this story on the drive to our Christmas Eve gathering. Sometimes, if the drive had taken less time than we had thought, we would wait silently in the parking lot for the final cadences of Frederick Forsyth’s classic short story.
We would walk around to the buzzer and call to be let up to Aunt Tena’s apartment. Inside we would find a feast of untold quantity, with classic Mennonite dishes alongside family favourites. Over the course of the coming hour, our extended family would also buzz up and more and more people would crowd into the living room. And there we ate together. Plates on laps, old amongst the younger, we would mix and mingle, we would talk about what was important to us, and we would share all that had happened in the preceding months. Read more…
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