Monday, December 25, 2017

White Christmas

3:45 came early this morning after a fun Christmas Eve of dinner and gifts. Lucy spent a restless night, too, sighing and snuggling hard into Heidi or me on the bumpy foldout couch. When I opened the back door to let her out, she bounded into six or more inches of new fallen snow, and the flakes were still swirling steadily from the sky.

A quick check confirmed that our 6 am flight was still on time, but a glance out the front door revealed a silent wonderland of undisturbed drifts with not a plow to be found. With a knot in my stomach, I called the cab company to confirm, but my call went straight to voicemail. The minutes crawled by as I sent text messages and emails to ensure our ride to the airport was on the way, but without a word in return, we finally woke up Heidi's dad from a sound winter's sleep.

He was ready in a flash, and in a few moments we were crunching our way over the luster of the unplowed thruway. We made it with a little time to spare. "White Christmases are over-rated," the gate agent had joked as he scanned our boarding passes, but I couldn't agree, even though when at last our plane climbed above the storm and headed south into the starry dawn, I felt like I'd had a full day already.

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