It's that time of the year again, end of November, the crips air's just beginning to set in. It had rained the day before, so the street was damp and the grass was dewy. 685Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7IL2oqIOvr
I pack my suitcase eagerly, it was a deep magenta and a dark green, with a faded gray handle. Honestly, I wasn't a fan of either of those colors, but for some reason, I liked the suitcase better than any other I saw. Perhaps it was the color combination that I liked. I pack it full, mostly of toys and accessories that I would most likely forget about within the arrival, and heave it up to stack by the door by my big brother's.685Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡk3z5biPIqZ
An hour later we were on the road. Not far, I've driven farther, only an hour and a half at most. It was in the mountains, up a steel hill. When we pass the cities and get through the country roads, we drive through the redwoods. It isn't a subtle change, it's gradual, and suddenly you've realized you're not driving throw dusty roads. Every time it happens, I realized, and I've never once figured out a good way of knowing when we're in the mountains or not. There's no start, only a realization.
I roll down my window, once I've realized we're on the mountain-roads, and I wait, watching the side of the steep slope for a sudden dip and then a huge view of the valley we live in. The air is thin, light, and refreshing. 685Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrH8UPF2Y3x
It hadn't snowed yet, and I've never been lucky enough to have thanksgiving in snow. I'd been to the snow multiple times, it's awful cold, but the nostalgic feeling you get when bundled up warm and sipping on hot cider while watching the snowflakes fall when you're by the fire? Well that's nearly heaven. 685Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9bThYY216O
We finally get there, and I jump out of the backseat of our pickup and stretch my legs. We've got a lot of food in the trunk, and I know if I stay too long my mother will guilt trip me into helping her. Although, helping her would be the right thing, wouldn't it? 685Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvroxkqzRmn
I run to the door that my father unlocks, taking his time of the rusty handle, and swings the door open. The familiar musty smell fills my nose and I rush through the basement and up the cabin's staircase. Setting my suitcase down in my room I share with my brother, I make my way to the hallway cabinet, the one where we store the gymnastic mats. Yes, gymnastic mats. You're probably wondering why, right?
Hearing my Mom call my name, I shut the cabinet door close, and race downstairs, through the basement and out to the lower patio.
"Yes?" I ask innocently. She gives me an exasperated look, laughing and handing me a box.
"Take this upstairs into the kitchen. Be careful, they're eggs on top, okay?" she instructs, and I take off upstairs.
Soon we're unpacked, my brother and I are lounging on the couch. We had just finished eating. Our grandparents would be up soon, and we'd have to help them unpack as well. Taking advantage of the free time we have, we spring to the hallway cabinet and grab two gymnastic mats, then drag them to the cabin's staircase.
(Our cabin was built strangely, and like most cabins in the Pine Crest and Yosemite area, was custom made. The only way in was through the basement door, and right as you entered, to your left, you were met with a very thin and steep staircase leading to the main room where everyone sat, and to your right there was a closet filled with blankets and pillows. At the top was a dutch-door, but only the bottom half, it was a deep chocolate brown. The stairs a bright pumpkin-orange. It was built in the 70's.)
I let my brother go first to avoid a dumb argument, and I give him a push, sending him flying down the staircase and into the closet filled with pillows. He laughs, jumps up, and bounds up the staircase to give me a push. As soon as I'm moving, that jittery feeling in your gut settles at the bottom of my stomach. A familiar thrill. The wooden floorboards zoom past, and my but comfortably sits on the cushion the gymnastic mat provided, crashing swiftly into the closet of pillows. 685Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhZp3QfsNkm
I run back to my brother, and this repeats, over and over again.
Snow was fun, but since we never saw it, this was the closest we got on thanksgiving weekend. And I looked forward to it every year.
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