At the end of November, my family hopped across the pond to celebrate Europe, togetherness, and nontraditional holidays. I left Dublin on the eve of November 19 to meet my favorite four in London, and was welcomed with Olaf-warm embraces, a box of Ferrero Rocher’s, and hushed laughter into the wee hours with Kaylee. Mom had booked a flat in Pimlico, a quiet neighborhood made up of Parisian terraces, grocery nooks, and flats (like ours) set beside—and looking to be set within—dress and flower shops.
We woke each morning to a burning sunrise, arching over the square of even homes, and stepped out into bitter air. London couldn’t have been a better city to be riding the Hop On, Hop Off buses; being as big as it is, it was so necessary. And being as chilly as it was, that was a luxury.