I'll Be Home for Christmas

I'll be home for Christmas,

You can count on me,

Please have snow, and mistletoe,

and presents on the tree,

Christmas Eve will find me

Where the love light gleams.

I'll be home for christmas,

if only in my dreams.

Christmas is the worst time of the year for me, being so far from "home". I don't term home as a particular place so much as a genuine feeling. I come from a wonderful family, that has always been very close knit. All holidays were celebrated together. When I was younger, the holidays were spent at my grandparents house, and when I got older in the retirement home they chose to live in. But, always, each year, no matter how busy anyone was with work or family, Christmas was spent together. I never missed a Christmas . . . until we moved here. This will be my second Christmas away from "home".

The thing about home though, is I can close my eyes and be there. I can close my eyes and see my grandmother cooking, or wrapping gifts, a young wide eyed child staring up watching from her perch on the hope chest at the foot of the big antique bed. I can see myself hanging over the edge of the railing that overlooked the living room, and consequently my grandfathers favorite rocking chair and saying "Look at me, look at me!" I remember the poor Christmas "branch" than granddaddy used to bring in to decorate, wasn't much to look at until you put all the pretty lights on it, and then him tuning in the ancient radio for Christmas music. Stockings knitted by my grandmothers own hands hung beside the tree, waiting for Santa Claus to come, and inevitably he always did.

I can close my eyes and hear their voices, each and every person in our family (which I might add is quite large), I can see everyones faces as though it was yesterday that I last looked at them. If I close my eyes tight enough, I can feel the touch of my grandmothers hands, the soft skin held tight in mine. I can hear my granddaddy singing Amazing Grace and Bye Bye Baby Bye (a song he made up just for us) as though he still stands here with me. I can see my grandma's face when she got my mothers famous gag gift which happened to be "snowman poop"--a really cute bag of marshmallows with a note from Santa saying that he ran out of coal. I can hear her laughing, too, and see the tears of surprise and laughter running down her cheeks.

Sometimes it takes leaving home to see where "home" really is, what it means, how much it means. I have a home of my own now, children of my own and a husband of my own. But the home of yesteryear lives in my heart. And will remain there for the rest of my life.

I WILL be home for Christmas. . . if only in my dreams.

Visit my other Christmas Pages

Happy Holidays

A Child Shall Lead

Tis the Reason

Twas the Day After Christmas

Why Jesus is better than Santa Claus

Are you ready for Christmas?

Please share this page with a friend!

You are visitor number