The Last Time

The last time my younger sister and I had been sledding was with our father. I had been 7 years old and Alison had been only 3 years old, she swears she has no memory of it at all, but I could still picture the whole day in my mind as if it had been only last week. 

Our father had taken us to a tall hill just out of the centre of town the morning after a particularly snowy night in January. On top was a world war two monument, every year the town council would make a large poppy display on remembrance day to place around the monument to be seen by the whole town. 

In the 18 years that had passed since that day I had not once been back to that hill nor had I been sledding again. 

Now at 25 years old I found myself back at that snow covered mound, my sister beside me. I could still feel my father’s hand in my right hand, his warmth radiating through both of our gloves. Alison had been standing on his other side, her own hand was swallowed away by his large palm. 

“Come on girls,” he had grinned at us both, his own childish excitement outdoing either of ours. Flakes of snow had still been falling down around us that morning and I noticed them landing in my thin auburn hair and on my thick waterproof coat. 

Now the snow had stilled and the air was clear and my father no longer stood between my sister and I. After a lot of begging, Alison had finally convinced me to come back that year to share the experience with her once again. 

Poor Alison had no memories of the great man that was our father, fun, exciting and caring are the words people often used most often to describe him. Although my memories of him were only faint I held onto them tightly with everything I had. 

“Shall we go then?” Alison asked me, nervously. I nodded in reply, hardly able to see through the heart warming memories flooding my sight, or perhaps it was the tears that were blurring my vision. 

The icy snow seemed to glitter in the sunlight, I remembered when I was young I always pictured a snow queen's castle being at the top of the hill, made completely of ice, the glitter covering the snow had been from her magic. Even with her cold kingdom and icy subjects she had been a friendly and welcoming queen.

As my boots crunched in the snow I wondered if I would still see the queen’s castle when I made it to the top of the hill. 

Other families were already stationed at the top with their boards in position and their routes mapped out. A mother of two told her husband off for not being careful enough, a smile was pasted wide on her face even through her scornful comments. 

Our mother had been working the morning we had been there with our father. He had taken us out so we would be worn out by the time she had arrived home and she could relax after a long day of customer service. She had woken us both up while she showered early before work and so our father had decided an early start to the day would be good for us all. The sun had barely risen when we arrived, wrapped up warm with our boards held securely under our arms. 

“Isn’t this great? There’s no one else here yet, we have the place to ourselves,” he had grinned wildly. “Why don’t you two find a good spot for us?” 

We had run wild looking for the best possible position to place our boards and set off through the snow. Eventually we chose a spot looking away from the town and towards the large car park bordering the canal. It wasn’t as steep on that side but the slide would go on for longer. 

This time we had arrived closer to midday and there were already several families making the most of the snow fall. It didn’t take Alison and I so long to choose a spot that day. The same long slope was available as it had been when we had come many years before and we both walked straight to it with no discussion needed. The other families appeared to have chosen the steeper slope. 

Our father had spent many months sculpting two beautiful wooden sledding boards by hand, gifting them to us that Christmas, wrapped in the most beautiful golden wrapping paper I had ever seen. It had been the first time we’d had enough snow to use them. Little did we know it would be the only time we would use them. 

I had placed the wooden board onto the snow eagerly and jumped right on top without hesitation, holding the rope for support. Alison had been too young to go on her own and was nestled safely in our father’s lap on the other board. 

“Are you ready?” He asked me, still with that massive grin of his that I could see so clearly, even now. Then we had pushed off on the snow and we were sailing down the slope, screaming and laughing all at the same time, freezing air pushing at my face. 

Now, Alison and I put down our plastic store bought sleds and just stood next to them for a moment, letting our eyes wander slowly over the distubed snow. Someone had been there before us, their path written out in the snow where ours would be soon. 

Alison sighed sadly beside me. “I thought this would bring back some memories of him,” she told me in defeat. “But I still remember so little.” 

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and held her close to me while I fought with the opposite problem. 

“I wanted to feel close to him, while I told you...” Alison trailed off and I didn’t have it in me to push the matter, she would tell me when she was ready. She turned her pale face to mine and her emerald eyes seemed to radiate with the reflection of the bright snow. “I’m pregnant,” she told me finally, her eyes nervous as they searched mine for a reaction. 

I let a soft smile form on my lips. “That’s great, Alison. Congratulations.” 

Relief seemed to flood through her features and I wondered what I could have done to cause such worry about telling me such brilliant news. I rubbed her back through her winter coat and we took our seats on our newly purchased sleds. 

“Are you ready?” Alisons asked me, her voice imitating his. Although she had no idea how similar they sounded, I heard it every time she spoke. 

The chilly wind brushed through my hair as I moved forward slowly, and then quickly through the snow, following the path set by the family before us. My heart raced through my chest and into my throat as the sled came slowly to a stop, mine just a foot ahead of Alison's. 

“Let’s go again!” I had jumped up straight away all those years ago, eager to go again and again until eventually my father was too worn out to go any longer and he watched me slide down the hill by myself while he laughed and held Alison’s little body in a large hug. 

Now, Alison and I just sat at the bottom of the hill, I smiled her way encouragingly, waiting to see what she wanted to do next. 

“Shall we go once more?” She asked half heartedly. 

I agreed, and down we went again. It did not feel the same as it once had. 

That evening we had been too excited to tell our mother about what we had done and the excitement of the day that we hadn’t realised it had happened. Finally, when our mother pushed us aside and slid down next to his body, we noticed our father on the floor. 

The ambulance arrived quickly and late that evening we received the news.