We had to leave.
We've been going to New Hampshire together for nine years now, but yesterday, for the first time, we decided to cut our trip short and go home a day early. It was still raining. It was still cold, and getting colder. We'd been freezing the night before, and it was supposed to go down to the thirties. We still had no heat, and the ancient, fire-any-second space heater Andrew found in a closet barely warmed the kitchen, where we huddled throughout the day. We just couldn't face another freezing night, of the girls in layers of clothes and pjs and still waking up with ice-cube hands.
So we're home now; we arrived late last night. I feel like we've betrayed the house somehow by leaving early. But being in New Hampshire means fire pits and grilling and eating outside and playing in the grass. Being inside, freezing, every day for almost four days...We'd reached our limit. Even us, who love this place more than anywhere else.