Twenty-nine years ago it snowed on Christmas day and I did not appreciate it one bit.
L. and I were getting married two days later and I was sure that neither our out-of-town bridesmaids and groomsmen or our out-of-town guests would be able to make it to the wedding.
Twenty-nine years later, we had no such worries because now we're the travelers. Despite the forecast of snow, we made it to within 10 miles of our home town before we saw our first flake. We ate a huge breakfast with the family, opened presents, and I showed my mother-in-law how to use her new laptop while the kids went outside to take pictures.
This is the house we lived in for five years before we moved to Charlotte.
This is the gut-shot snowman at the gun shop that's now across the road from our old house.
We visited with my sister, popped back by L.'s parents to see how they were getting along with the new computer, and learned that L.'s younger brother and wife had gone off the road on their way home and hit a tree. Luckily, though, they were no more than badly bruised.
We drove back home in the snow which rather abruptly changed to rain about 20 miles outside Charlotte. A couple hours later it began to snow here and the next morning the trees were glorious.
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