bermuda holiday
Sunday, January 8th, 2022
At noon on December 22nd, my dad and I met at the airport. We checked our heavy, gift-laden bags and braced ourselves as we glanced up at the Departures screen. Delayed by two hours, but not cancelled. Wonderful news.
As fate would have it, we were flying to Bermuda to spend Christmas with my sister and her family during a “once-in-a-generation” winter storm. We were nervous but optimistic, even though we would later discover that every single West Jet flight was cancelled the day after ours. As our delay grew and grew, my dad paced and inspected the ground crew from the window (as dads at the airport do) and when the boarding announcement finally came, my sister admitted that she was relieved, albeit a little surprised. We were actually on our way.
Emilia is my older niece and at four and a half, she was determined to stay up to see us all arrive. Mike’s parents (my sister’s in-laws) were also on our flight and so the regular excitement was doubled. True to her word, Emilia had a nap in the early evening and was ready, waiting and watching until the car finally pulled in the driveway at 10pm. We shared hugs and a “midnight picnic” in the living room before we all crashed, including the toddler.
The funny thing about Bermuda is that no one knows where it is. Because it’s included in that classic Beach Boys song before “Bahama”, everyone seems to assume it is in the Caribbean. It is actually much closer. In fact, it’s in the middle of the ocean to the east of the US, pretty much across from South Carolina. It is so far east, in fact, that it is 1-hour ahead. This does not sound like a time change that would cause any kind of jet lag, but when you have a toddler crawling in bed beside you at 7am, that actually feels like 6am. And when you are used to slowly batting your eyelashes open without an alarm, some time around 9am, then you are in for a big surprise. Sure enough, my little bed bug Emilia found me and even though I was able to big-spoon her into silent submission for a couple of minutes, she eventually stirred and told me to put in my contacts and wake up. In fact, she fetched me the case from the bathroom so that I could do it even faster. So helpful.
The next couple of days were filled with pre-holiday activities, cookie-baking, holiday crafts and excitement for Santa… although my favourite times were just hanging out with everyone at home. One sunny afternoon, Emilia and I took our supplies (her sketchbook and crayons, and my camera) down the laneway. She sketched flowers and birds while sitting in my lap, and I shut my eyes to the soft rustling of the breeze in the palms overhead. I was obviously still sleep-deprived from the morning intrusions, so this was nice. Before we returned to the house, I set up my camera on a rock for a self-portrait of our outing together. Since the best way to capture a candid moment is to talk to one another, I turned towards her as the camera clicked on and asked her to make one Christmas wish. She looked at me thoughtfully, her small hand on my chest and replied, “I wish you could be here every day”. I wrapped her up in a big hug and somehow both of those moments made it onto my camera. And that is my favourite thing about kids- the small moments become the big moments because they are honest, open and fearless in speaking from their tiny, perfect hearts.
Christmas morning began at 6:15am which should be illegal. Through half-open eyelids, Auntie watched stockings get torn apart and uttered thanks for the tea and Veuve that was already in steady supply. Charlotte, my younger niece, is two and a half and follows in my footsteps as a true introvert. She was given a Paw Patrol tower and immediately played with that, on her own, ignoring her other gifts. Actually, in the middle of the present-opening, she politely excused herself to my sister’s bedroom to have “quiet time”. I have never felt more proud.
The day continued with the annual Christmas Day trip to the beach- a Bermuda tradition. And not just family tradition, I’m talking Bermuda-wide tradition, complete with Santa hats and a live DJ. While the adults sipped mimosas, my nieces in their holiday plaid got absolutely covered in sand and surf. These two Bermuda babies have been on the beach practically since birth and it is incredible to see them spin around in the tide, their curls damp and cheeks rosy. It is one tradition that feels so very different from a Canadian Christmas, but it has become one of my favourites.
After the anticipation for Santa came and went, we settled into those blurry days between Christmas and the new year. Before I knew it, a week in Bermuda had flown by and I hardly knew how. Something that Aunt-life has shown me is how difficult it can be for me to stay truly present around the girls. Or maybe, “present” isn’t the right word. Maybe it is something more like “grounded”. As parents well know, life around toddlers seems to move so quickly and while you are caught up in imaginative play or making sure that everyone is eating or playing with their OWN toy, time keeps moving right along. And as an introvert myself who is used to living alone, working alone and generally spending lots of time alone, this energy definitely became over-stimulating. I have realized this is one of the main reasons I love photography and more so than ever, family photography with young kids. When I am behind my camera, looking through the lens, I can take a breath and stop time for a moment. My camera is like a second set of eyes, one that observes with greater detail, greater presence. And even more, with my camera I can preserve the moment, so that when the flurry eventually quiets and when time slows enough for a pause, a collection of photographs remain that show what a beautiful day it was.
The last few years took away so much from all of us. And yet, I feel like I am still discovering the after-effects… such as my shrunken social battery that depletes unreasonably quickly and ends in a state of overwhelm. But as we all start to come back together, I personally want to remember that I am not supposed to be as isolated as I have been. And it’s these moments in Bermuda that remind me of that the most. When my loving and extroverted Emilia wants to sit down and draw, but also talk her way through exactly WHAT she is drawing. When I arrive home after a shoot, not to a quiet apartment, but to two curly blonde-haired girls screaming “Auntie! Auntie!” and wrapping me up in big hugs. When I try to put the kettle on, or go to the bathroom, or do anything really and can’t shake off the toddler who clings to my leg insisting, “I will NEVER let you go!” I may have arrived back in Toronto and slept in peaceful quiet for days afterwards, but my Christmas holiday was exactly how I hoped it would be- filled with family and connection, and more of each than I have had in years.
