We went back to New Jersey for Christmas, leaving on a Christmas-night red eye since that was the cheapest thing to do.* We arrived in Philadelphia just before the snow started to fall, which turned out to be lucky since it made roads all over the northeast very treacherous. We napped during the thickest part of the storm, leisurely leafed through the newspaper when we got up and spent the rest of the evening watching football on TV. The snow didn’t seem so bad to us, but I guess it was that we had nowhere to go. We spent the next morning with the snowblower, which, let me tell you, has to be one of the most back-saving inventions ever made. After digging out the driveway, we went looking for deals at the Cherry Hill Mall. The place had been remodeled since I’d last been there and it spooked me a little not to know my way around. Whenever I go back to visit my parents, it feels a little like learning how to ride a bike all over again. I have to ask for a reminder of how to get to Route 70 and where the supermarket is. I have to relearn the house alarm code. It’s gotten to the point where going to visit my parents doesn’t feel like going home anymore.
*I know it’s been a while since I’ve written a postcard. I blame travel during the holidays and the backlog of work to do. I’ll be playing catch up in the next few posts.