We flew into Manhattan when we went home for Christmas. It cut down our total trip mileage and ensured some quality time in the spot that we love full well. I always leave a piece of my heart there for safekeeping.
It was wonderful to be back in Kansas. The crisp cold that accompanies the powdered snow dusted across open prairie, the sky wide above you. A warm car on the way to the midnight julotta service at a tiny country church. A fiery sunset that serves as a backdrop to silhouettes of otherworldly wind turbines dotted across the horizon, turning almost imperceptibly. A pace of life that reminds you to slow down and savor it.
And so we did. I baked with Grandma. We played BANG! with cousins (and Sara—so glad you came!). Dad served as tour guide while we explored the nearby towns and farms full of family history. We convinced Grandma Judy to join us in Dodge, where we ran around town with Grandma Marilyn and the aunts. We drove Micki home and spent an afternoon with Dane (who had to leave Dodge before we arrived because of work). I squeezed in a nap with Pfluff while the guys watched football. We met a new baby who belongs to dear friends. We even stopped at our favorite coffee shop and snuck in breakfast at the doughnut shop everyone has been telling us about.
Really, there's no place like home.