The snow started falling about halfway home from the Toronto airport. I had dozed off after a restless red-eye flight from Vancouver, and awoke to flurries outside the passenger window.

The snowflakes grew larger and larger in the next 45 minutes, and by the time my dad and I pulled into our driveway, our little white house on the hill could hardly be seen against the horizon.

It was a true white Christmas.

As soon as I got my luggage settled inside, I threw on the warmest clothing I could find and headed outside for a walk with my mom and the two dogs. We trudged through the snow-covered trails behind the house and the outskirts of the fields. The entire world was exploding in a silent burst of white; everything moving and nothing making a sound.

After we began to lose feeling in our toes, we made our way back into the house. The fireplace and Christmas tree were glowing as we settled down for the rest of the afternoon. Even the chilliest day was no match for this warmth.

The next couple of days were made up of many of the same things; outdoor adventures, warming up by the fire, and a few brief mid afternoon naps. Our neighbour’s dog, Willy, was even in the festive spirit and paid us a visit.

Christmas morning was slow and relaxing; we opened presents and sat around watching television for most of the morning. We went on a quick walk (mostly for a festive photo op with the dogs, which I insist on subjecting them to every year), before heading into town to see family.

One of my last nights at home I was lucky enough to catch a starry sky. I hadn’t seen a sky like this in a while. Even though it was the coldest night I’d experienced in a very long time, the partial frostbite was worth it to witness everything sparkle.

Like most trips home for the holidays, everything went by very quickly. I blinked and I was already on my flight back to Vancouver. I’m counting down the days until I’m back once again.