Last night as I lay in bed, I started thinking about the upcoming Thanksgiving weekend. I was doing the usual planning and writing and checking off of lists that I carry around in my cranium, when I was struck by a wave of total, heartbreaking, melancholy.
It's not the fact that we are going to the inlaws for the Thanksgiving holiday. We've spent that holiday with them before, as opposed to my family. This year, it's even more important we see the inlaws NOW, because they are going to Australia from November to March. Ya, poor suckers. Hmpf. So, this is a Thanksgiving and Christmas visit all rolled up into one event.
The problem is because at least when we lived "back home," I knew that if I didn't see MY family at Thanksgiving, I'd still see them at Christmas. Now, we don't travel at Christmas due to weather as well as my husband's job. So, do the math. I won't see my family for any occasion til "possibly" Easter. That's right, spring.
I miss spending holidays with my family and friends. I miss my friends "Christmas Eve" party every year. I miss Christmas morning with my kids and my Mom. I miss spending the afternoon and dinner with my sister and her family. I miss my family.
I'm hoping we get to see everybody for a long weekend in November, which would be awesome. It's just not the "same" though.
We have created a nice life here, don't get me wrong. We have a wonderful Christmas morning with my children. We pool food together and have a delicious Christmas dinner with my neighbour and her family. I also do our own dinner one night. It's all magical and heartwarming.
But it's not like being "home."
I'm clicking my heels together and repeating, "There's no place like home, there's no place like home." I hope I open my eyes and find myself there, soon.
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