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?

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The painting used above is by Thomas Kinkade. Visit his web site to see some beautiful
works of art!
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