Literally. Home.

The place a person was born and raised will always be considered “home” in their hearts. The song we all know and love refers to home as that place. We 850 miles from that home and have been for the past 14 Christmases (15 years total in a couple months). This is our home now, and this is where we were for Christmas.

I know some who return to their childhood homes for Christmas every year. They put up trees and decorate weeks before Christmas, but those trees are lonely on Christmas morning because no one is there to wake up and open presents near them. The farther away from that home some may be, the harder (and more expensive) it is to return. Jobs, and the ability for everyone to get the same amount of time off,Β also play a big part in the ability to travel during the holidays.

So we stay home for Christmas. Every year.

Home for the Holidays

Going out on a limb and being totally frank here … Why are the ones who moved away always the ones expected to be the ones to call on Christmas? The phone works both ways. When it doesn’t ring on either end, who’s to blame? One side? Both sides? Neither side? It’s a terrible thing to think, but (keeping it real) it is a valid and totally natural thought.

Am I a horrible person for thinking this way? Does everyone who moves away from “home” feel expected to maintain those ties to the place they left?

It seems like a logical thing for those who moved away to return “home” to visit because they can see everyone. That’s not really the case, though. It’s very hard to see everyone for any quality amount of time when we return. Again, jobs get in the way. People work, and not everyone can get time off.

I’m just going to leave it there. I miss family and friends back home at Christmas more than any other time of year, and these are the feelings that come to the surface when I spend too much time allowing myself to think about it. So now it’s out here on the interwebs for all to see (which may end up being no more than two or three people actually, but no matter).

Next stop: New Year πŸ™‚

Written by Sheila K

I don't believe humans truly have a purpose. Our goal is to survive until we expire. Period. Joy is pleasurable and worrying is not. Balance in life is crucial; but if the scales must tip, may they tip on the side of joy. I’m just another human trying to survive. I blog because I can and because I enjoy it, not because it serves any purpose.

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