Dreaming of a white Christmas

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know
Where the treetops glisten and children listen
To hear sleigh bells in the snow

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
With every Christmas card I write
"May your days be merry and bright
And may all your Christmases be white

I was tucked in one seat with a Christmas tree, while girls shared the back with Gatsby. The air smelled of gingerbread latte and freshly baked croissants as we arrived at our guesthouse. The dinner, filled with laughter, was enjoyed slowly, as we had all the time and Christmas spirit in the world. It was all about the Christmas music, sparkling lights, and hopes for the snow (that never came). The days passed by quickly, as it took three hours to boil the onion soup, even more, to walk around Cesis, indulge in pieces of honey cake, and make Norvegian pancakes svele. It was our first real feeling of Christmas, but not the last one.