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We love the idea of a White Christmas … for other people.
In Coronado, when our neighbors strapped a load of snow boarding gear to the roof of their Tesla, crammed the trunk tick-tight with gore tex and hauled off to the mountains, we knew the time had come to break through the white foam of a nitro stout at the Coronado Brew Pub.
So, after Thanksgiving adventures in Tennessee, we invited Dad to go south for the holidays – follow the weather; avoid the polar vortex; hi-jack this good health we’re having and drive it full-throttle into the Florida sunshine. Daddy was intriqued. He certainly didn’t demure. He urged us to proceed with our plans – said he’d give it some thought and let us know.
Since golf weather was lousy at his favorite course in Mississippi, I figured he’d join us.
Now, Daddy loves all things Christmas so, on the way to Pensacola, we stopped at Costco, picked up a cute and fragrant rosemary tree, decorated it with lights from the “Trailer Christmas” box, and texted him a tempting campsite photo …
in the spectacular Gulf Islands National Seashore at Fort Pickins, Florida.
Daddy texted back that he’d be driving into Pensacola within a few days to join us … Great! But for how long would he stay? Through Christmas? Longer?
Next morning, I woke to a Blue Angels fly over. Jim was outside walking Pico, admiring the weather with a neighbor. I poured coffee and strategized how to capture the trailer shot of my dreams. Hmmmm….
Presently, Jim walked in saying (uncharacteristically), “Well, there goes the neighborhood” and directed my attention to the space next door where the cutest little red camper van you ever did see, had backed into the empty asphalt space – “We have a neighbor.”
“That’s ok,” I said, “These spaces are generous …” Then, Dad steps out of his new Winnebego Travato!!!
We camped side-by-side for a couple of weeks at Ft. Pickens campground near Pensacola.
Yesterday, Dad pulled in his power step and drove out of Ho-Hum, but he’ll join us again soon because we’re a caravan now.
So, life is good.
Christmas is white
…paradise is found.
Paradiso trovato. It’s not so much where you are or what you’re doing, but how you feel when you’re among those you love.