Christmas Eve Tradition

Tuesday, December 24, 2013 – San Francisco to Yosemite

Breakfast at a diner near our hotel sparked one of those delightfully offbeat family conversations. Over pancakes and eggs, the kids decided I must be a Buddha. During our time in Chinatown, I’d mentioned Buddha or Buddhism a few times, and apparently, that was enough to elevate me to enlightenment status. Back then, I didn’t know much about Buddhism, but Aaron did, and he declared me worthy. Looking back now, knowing more about Buddhism, I’d be quite pleased to achieve enlightenment and be a source of happiness as a Buddha.

After breakfast, we hit the road for Yosemite. Along the way, we stopped for groceries, then found and settled into the cabin that would be our home for the next few days. It was perfect: three bedrooms so the kids could each have their own space, a gas fireplace for cozy evenings, and a hot tub for unwinding after our adventures. Before the day ended, we ventured out to a couple of overlooks at sunset, which gave us a tantalizing preview of the natural beauty we’d explore in the coming days.

Traveling around Christmas has led to one of our favorite traditions: making my grandmother Gami’s fried rice recipe for Christmas Eve dinner. It’s a dish I loved as a child and still do today, and I’ve happily passed my enthusiasm for it on to Chrissy and the kids. The recipe is fairly simple, the ingredients are usually easy to find, and it’s adaptable to whatever kitchen setup we encounter in vacation rentals. No matter where we are, that meal makes it feel like home and connects us to family memories. This year was no different—we cooked together, enjoyed the comforting flavors, and ended the evening feeling content and drifting off to sleep dreaming less about what Santa would bring and more about the adventures ahead for the next few days.