My Favorite Christmas Part I

Okay, so it’s not exactly on Christmas, but the day after Thanksgiving, which, as everyone knows, means official Christmastime.  And it’s a tradition in my family.  We traveled the four hours to Idaho to spend Thanksgiving with my dad’s side of the family.  And then Friday morning we would get all our snow gear on and we would head up to the mountains.  A permit to cut down our own tree was only $5, and we went to the exact same spot.  Every year.  We all hike in to the same opening between the trees.  My uncle has prepared homemade Turkey Noodle Soup, left-overs from the night before, and we have hot chocolate.  And we sled.  For hours.  The adults take a couple of saws and start hiking.  In search for that “perfect” Christmas tree.  They are gone for hours, not settling for just any tree.  And the kids just play.  Being settled in a sort of bowl made from the snow, we have hills all around us to choose from.

I still think of that one year–when my grandma picked up a sled and joined us.    It started innocent enough, but my grandma kept hiking higher and higher up the hills.  Eventually we were at the top of a very steep hill, with trees and bushes everywhere.  We would have to make it a straight shot to make it down without hitting anything, and at such high speeds that seemed unlikely.  It was dangerous.  But I couldn’t let my grandma see that I was nervous.  That SHE was braver than I was.  (She was a GRANDMA for crying out loud.)  So I went down.  I think I swallowed my scream, but I did it.  And we all survived.  Later that same day we were going down a hill and my grandma face planted it into the snow.  When she looked up her glasses were packed.  She laughed, which made us all laugh.  And at that moment I knew my life was perfect.