Cardamom and cinnamon warmed my throat as I sipped on mulled wine. Empty mugs and playing cards crowded our table. We were nestled on the balcony of a café, perched on a snowy cliff carved miles above the distant sea. Frosted wooden cabins surrounded us. Our breath clouded as we debated the rules of Uno.

The Swiss Alps sculpted the horizon. Paragliders swooped through the air, their colorful wings slicing the gentle sky. Light brushed the snow-capped mountaintops, toasting them as the sun set. An evening of fondue and dancing lay ahead.

Two years later, mulled wine bubbles on the stove in our New York City apartment. The wistful aroma of cardamom and cinnamon envelops the kitchen as I shuffle the Uno cards.