Homeward Bound

I am headed home tomorrow. It sounds strange to say it that way considering I haven't lived at 'home' for over five years. Still, when everyone asked me what I was doing for Christmas, the words came naturally--"I'm going home." At first, I said this with hesitance, perhaps even a bit of dismay. Here I had a perfectly good week of vacation time where I could go anywhere, do anything, and I was heading to the small town of Marion, just outside of San Antonio, Texas, revisiting a past that, if I remember correctly, I was more than eager to leave behind.

As the weeks drew closer and life seemed to be getting more confused and hectic, the sound of home wasn't so bad. My parents are in Texas. My grandpa is in Texas. One of my best friends is in Texas. So is my sister. They alone are worth the trip, right? Quite simply, yes. Because even if I were able to embark on a fantastic trip in some far off land, I would be missing out on time with them, something far more valuable to me than even the greatest trip I could imagine.

Home is complicated for me, which is one of the reasons for my initial hesitance. I have many fond memories of Christmases past, and I have some Christmases I wish I could obliterate from my memory altogether (those were the ones that resulted in yelling, tears, and so much anger). But for the most part, I look back with a great deal of nostalgia.

The festivities always began Christmas Eve, where it was off to church for the Children's Mass (when I was younger, I would be a part of the pageant. As I got older, I acted as a sort of assistant music director). I still go to this Mass, and I still love singing "Silent Night" during communion and belting out "Joy to the World" at the end. After Mass, we would head over to my grandparents and open gifts from them and have dinner. For awhile, we would get things like dolls or tea sets from my grandma. During Christmas, my grandpa was given an allowance, and he would go out and buy jewelry he thought we would like. I still have a lot of that jewelry, many of it still in their original boxes. (He meant well, but his taste is eclectic.) After the gifts had been opened, we would head home and open one gift under the tree, usually the gift from my grandparents here in KC. Then off to bed so Santa could come. We would leave cookies and milk and a few carrots (you cannot forget the reindeer!).

Christmas morning for the first several years was the four of us. Now, it is just me, my mom, and my dad. And while I would be lying if I said the presents weren't important, it was more the small rituals we had on Christmas morning that made a difference. My sister and I would wake up early, but we never bothered waking my parents right away. We would usually take a look in our stockings and asses the presents around the tree, then watch television quietly until a decent hour arrived. My dad would usually be the first up, and he would make up a batch of scrambled eggs (a welcome change to the cereal we were used to). By the time they were ready, my mom would be up, and with painstaking slowness, we would eat. Then it would be time to open our gifts, where inevitably there was some genuine excitement mixed in with the feigned appreciation.

Often, depending on the gifts, my sister and I would change and head outside. (Something I never truly appreciated about Christmas in Texas--more often than not, you did not have to worry about weather getting in your way of enjoying your new toys.) Usually, it was the toys that elicited the most excitement that would be most quickly cast aside, and the present initially overlooked that would bring lasting entertainment. My sister and I often got joint gifts, which meant I spent a good amount of time watching my sister play with it. And yet, I never minded. It was fun, it was exciting, and it was family.

Eventually, we would wander up to my grandparents' place and enjoy Christmas dinner. I cannot recall any of the foods really beyond the sugar cookies that my grandmother, sister, and I (and sometimes my mom) had rolled out and decorated a few days before. They were always in this large plastic Santa cookie jar, that looking back was kind of strange looking. But then again, my Grandma Tanner had a lot of strange Santa things in her house (she collected them), so perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. While the adults talked and my sister did her own thing, I would often sneak away to the den, where laid out on the coffee table was the Christmas village.

Made up of houses of all different shapes and sizes, the village was something I enjoyed setting up each year, and when I could, I would make up stories for its residents. Perhaps the strangest thing about the village, though, was the HUGE nativity scene at the end. The manger itself was huge, at least twice as tall as even the biggest house. Mary and Joseph and all the rest were giants, looming over the houses. The wisemen had a few scrapes and bruises (one had an unfortunate accident that deprived him of a hand), and the animals looked a little more worse for wear. Let's just say that triggered the more imaginative (and perhaps blasphemous/irreverent) part of my brain, and it would be safe to say there was never quite another village like that one. And although we have a Christmas village here, it is nothing like the one from Texas. One of the many things I cannot recreate.

After dinner, and after we had exhausted our interest in our new toys, the day would wind down, and we would all settle in to watch either tv or movies. There was never a particular movie...we didn't always watch "It's A Wonderful Life" or "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation" or anything. What I do remember is hot chocolate and British comedies. Not sure why that is...

Christmas at home isn't quite like the Christmas of my childhood. Sadly, my Grandma Tanner isn't around to share it with--I haven't made those sugar cookies in years. My sister isn't really around to share my gifts with, and she certainly isn't there to take them away from me so "we" could use them together.  After being harangued by my mom for a few years, Grandpa now gives money instead. I kind of miss the jewelry, to be honest. We still do the hot chocolate and tv/movie thing. A few years back, my father stumbled upon this strange old movie with Rupert the Squirrel  and Jimmy Durante, and we watch that together instead of British comedies. My dad still makes sure to hang the Christmas lights, particularly the star that has been in his family for years. And most years, we have a tree. We may never had a conventional Christmas, but I cannot imagine how they could have been any better.

Writing this reflection helped me realize something. I am fortunate in so many ways. I am grateful to have such fond memories, I am fortunate to have a place to go, a place I WANT to go. And I know that not everyone out there has this opportunity, and for those of you out there, know that I wish you and your loved ones all the best. For those who can be with family, enjoy them. Have fun. Try to overlook the things that make you most frustrated and focus on the good stuff. Wherever you are, whatever you do, may this holiday season be a good one for you, and may you always find a place you can call home.