WEEK 49

"We drove up the snowy, winding road towards the cozy A-frame cabin."

The trees and their branches bend downward with an inch of pure white snow. As the wind lifts and twirls the snowflakes around, we watch nature's aerial ballet. Standing close to the road, a buck and doe freeze in a natural pose. Gossamer pink and blue clouds float above with the sun beginning to set behind us.

Excitedly, I exclaim, "Harry, the cabin looks fabulous. Look, look! There is a yellow snowmobile under the double carport."

Breathing easier, Harry chimes, "Sally, it looks better than the pictures on Airbnb."

I agree, "Sure does!"

For no apparent reason, we start to laugh. Giggling and laughing, we tease each other for missing an exit off the interstate. At that moment, it wasn't funny. We drove twenty-five miles before there was a turnaround.

"Sally, don't forget about the rutted logging road that the GPS directs us to. Like a broken record, the GPS keeps repeating RECALCULATING, RECALCULATING!" Harry adds.

"How could I forget? Luckily, we found a place to turn around and backtrack to the main road," I sigh.

********

Traveling to unique and distinct locations around the world annually for a fun and fabulous weekend getaway on the 49th week, this year, Airbnb confirms our accommodations months in advance of our trip. The trip means so much to us. Celebrating our eighth year together and Harry's eighth year of sobriety, a getaway trip is a need not a want.

Honestly, by week 49, it's good to get away from it all.

*********

Parking the SUV under the cabin's carport, we decide to check out the cabin before unloading our luggage, gear, and food. On the first try, the code to the cabin door didn't work. We might have hit an incorrect digit. Apprehensively, on the second attempt, the door opens.

As we step inside the cabin, the fire in the fireplace envelopes us. With the smell of wood burning and the crackling of the logs, we feel right at home. We notice the oversized living room and kitchen. In front of us, the wall-to-wall fireplace is welcoming, and the round wood coffee table sits between the two blue and white couches. The kitchen has a small refrigerator, microwave, and gas stove. With silverware and utensils in the drawers, dishes, pots, and pans sit on the open shelves.

"Where is the bedroom?" I ask.

Harry answers, "The ladder to the left leads to a loft bedroom."

As the sun slowly sets in the West, we empty the SUV of our goods.

Eating grapes and cheese in front of the fireplace, we reminisce talking about life and our adventures. At midnight, we agree to take the snowmobiling out for a ride in the morning, after breakfast.

Snuggling in the loft, I sleep in Harry's arms.

*******

In the morning, coffee brews. Baking bacon in the oven, the eggs sizzle in the iron skillet. By 9 AM, with our ski masks, snow pants, parka, gloves, helmets, and boots on, on the first try, the snowmobile turns over, and off we go.

Locating a snowmobile trail, we drove through a magnificent tree tunnel extending for half a mile. Nature's beauty seeps into our hearts and souls. The snowmobile revs up causing us to slide off the snowmobile and land on a snow bank. We laugh. The snowmobile came to a stop a short distance ahead of us. Walking fifty feet and starting the snowmobile, we drove further into the woods.

At first, small snowflakes fell onto the snowmobile. Plink! Plink! Within minutes, larger snowflakes drop from the sky. In no time at all, thick snow comes down fast and furious. Seeing becomes problematic, and the snowmobile stops. After several tries to restart the snowmobile, it refuses and our only option is to walk back to the cabin.

Miraculously, Harry led us through the blizzard to the A-frame cabin. Once inside, Harry places another log on the fire. In dry clothes, we heat the frozen turkey entrees in the microwave. We give thanks and eat in front of the fireplace.

Knowing how fortunate we were, we count our lucky stars. Amazingly, we escape frostbite and hypothermia.

Snowing twenty-four hours straight, the storm left 70 inches of snow on the ground. Blocking the door and windows, the snow held us captive. Because of nature's fury, we were in lockdown.

Late Sunday evening, with cell phone service working, we extend our stay.

"Next year?" Harry ask.

I answer, "How about a Tropical Island."

"When we return home, we should make reservations on Airbnb for next year's getaway to a place that's cozy, comfortable, and warm!" Harry exclaims.