Lost in the Snow

Lost in the Snow: A Christmas Adventure of Fear, Family, and Finding Home

The cold bite of the wind cut through my jacket as Ash’s nephews and niece erupted into laughter. Their joyful howls echoed across the wide, snowy fields, their voices mixing with the carefree sounds of their parents, who had joined in the amusement at my expense.

Elaine, ever the good sport, helped me dust off the snow that clung to my coat, but the stubborn flakes had a way of attaching to my eyebrows and eyelashes, forming tiny, sharp icicles. I tried to hold on to whatever shred of dignity I had left, trailing behind them as they searched for the perfect Christmas tree. But the thought of my cozy home in Atlanta, with its Martha Stewart artificial tree, kept creeping into my mind.

As we moved farther into the forest, the snow began to fall heavier, the visibility plunging with every passing minute. My stomach tightened. I stopped, scanning the now almost invisible surroundings. Silence surrounded me, the soft crunch of snow beneath boots now lost to the howling wind. My heart began to beat faster as I realized I couldn’t see anyone. I hadn’t wandered far, but in the thickening snowstorm, everything looked the same.

The trees seemed to close in around me, their dark, imposing shapes standing like sentinels. I took a deep breath and forced my feet to move. The snow was deep, and I struggled to push through it, stumbling with each step. My cheeks burned as the wind lashed at them with ice, and tears, not from sorrow but from the sting of the cold, froze to my lashes.

Panic swirled inside me, but I knew I couldn’t let it take over. I had to focus, to think clearly. Ash and his family were here somewhere; I just had to find them. I stood still, trying to gather my bearings, my eyes squeezed shut against the wind’s bite. They were near. They had to be.

Then, almost as if the storm decided to give me a break, the wind quieted. The snow still fell, but the visibility improved. It was as though the world was holding its breath. I remembered the compass app on my phone. My hands were clumsy with thick gloves, but I managed to retrieve it, and there it was: east. I needed to go west. I turned in that direction, pushing forward, gaining a little more confidence with each step.

The trees stretched endlessly before me, the endless white a blur, but then—there. A sound, faint at first, but growing louder. I turned toward it, and a moment later, I heard my name, clear and unmistakable.

“Over here!” Ash’s voice called, and the relief that flooded me was overwhelming. I ran toward him, ignoring the sharp sting of the snow as it continued to bite at my skin, and before long, I was in his arms, the warmth of his embrace melting away the chill.

His voice was gentle but teasing. “Where did you go?”

I opened my mouth to explain, but the words tumbled out in a rush. “I couldn’t see anything. The snow was so thick, and I couldn’t find you. I thought I was lost, and the wind... It was too much.”

Ash chuckled softly, his hands steadying me. “It’s okay. That was just a snow squall. The wind and snow together make it nearly impossible to see. You did the right thing by staying put. We were never far off, just a few feet, really.”

He kissed my forehead, his warmth a stark contrast to the cold. “Mom found the tree she wanted. Let’s get it cut down and take it back.”

Later that evening, we sat around the freshly cut tree. The Concolor fir stood proudly in the corner, its branches glistening under the soft glow of the lights. The fire crackled in the stone fireplace, its warmth fighting the cold that still clung to my skin. The kids were lost in their own world of games, while the adults reminisced about Christmases past.

Ash’s eyes met mine across the room, his smile full of quiet affection. “Are you having fun?”

I leaned my head on his shoulder, the weight of the day melting away as I felt the warmth of the room, the family, and the moment. “I am, indeed.”