Chapter 11 - Preparing for a Different Christmas
As November rolled around again, the crisp autumn air brought familiar sights and sounds to the neighborhood: glowing pumpkins giving way to twinkling holiday lights, frost on windshields, and department stores decking their halls with red and gold ribbons.
For most families, November meant planning Thanksgiving dinner and coordinating massive Christmas family reunions.
For us, it meant something entirely different.
One evening while we were eating dinner, Adam cleared his throat and looked across the table at Olivia and me.
“So,” Adam began with a playful grin, “I’ve been looking at some travel sites for the winter holidays. Since we have zero family obligations pulling us toward traditional holiday dramas this year, I was thinking we could start a brand new tradition.”
Olivia looked up from her plate, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “What kind of tradition?”
“How does a snowy cabin in the mountains sound?” Adam asked. “Far away from city traffic, surrounded by pine trees, deep snow, a roaring fireplace, and absolutely no relatives within a hundred miles.”
Olivia gasped, dropping her fork with a cheerful clatter. “Can we build a giant snow fort?! Can I bring my new laptop to code my robotics project up in the mountains?”
“Only if we spend at least fifty percent of our time sledding and drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows,” I laughed, feeling a profound wave of gratitude wash over me.
“It's a deal,” Adam said, raising his glass of sparkling cider. “Mountain Christmas, here we come.”
Booking the cabin was remarkably easy. We found a secluded, gorgeous timber-framed lodge nestled deep in the pine forests near Lake Tahoe, complete with a massive stone fireplace, panoramic mountain views, and a wrap-around porch where we could watch the snow fall in absolute silence.
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For the first time in my adult life, the approach of December didn't bring a knot of dread to my stomach. There was no shopping for expensive gifts for people who would sneer at them, no preparing massive feasts for ungrateful relatives, and no bracing myself for passive-aggressive remarks about my career or my parenting.
There was only the quiet, beautiful anticipation of peace.
