Beneath the surface of snow covered trees, counters lined with freshly baked cookies, and Christmas lights twinkling in the background, something always seems amiss this time of year for me. It's sense of longing for something that makes me stop in my tracks now and then with a few tears for unexplained reasons, it's a moment here or there of sadness in the midst of beauty and peace.
Earlier this week Big Little Wolf posted about home. Feeling at home, feeling a sense of belonging, home. She's grown to be one of my favorite daily reads, because her posts stay with me long after I shut the laptop down. Her post on home especially has stayed in my mind. I left a comment saying that I feel most at home where I know I am loved, so an abundance of places. An abundance of places hold pieces of my heart, whether I'm currently there or not.
Today we did our weekly drive up to my inlaws house. A place that I thankfully feel very much at home. We are loved beyond belief, and we feel it as soon as we can see their house through snowy trees. It's an hour and a half from us, and a gorgeous drive. We listened to Christmas music, particularly the Alan Jackson song Let it be Christmas that I think I mentioned in a previous post. You can listen to it here. Let me rephrase that, you should listen to it. It's country, and it's a tad cheesy with the graphics, but it's good. Really good. The line From the sandy white beaches where blue water rolls is sung directly to my tear ducts.
With Big Little Wolf's post in my mind, and Alan Jackson in the CD player, I realized. I'm terribly homesick.
I'm homesick for two inhabitants of a little house on the East Coast of Florida. Thousands of miles away. Where they enjoy Christmas on the beach with picnic lunches packed with sandwiches and gingerbread cookies {I'm guessing, I haven't been there for that experience yet... }.
I'm homesick for my dad. The way he'll polish off a plate of cookies after Christmas dinner, pat his belly, and say with a huge grin "I don't like those cookies one bit!" The way he rests one arm across his chest, tucking his hand into the opposite arm pit, gesturing with the other arm as he talks {and believe me, he has a few good stories}. The way his eyes dance when he sings. His voice, and his big bear hugs, and his love.
And man alive am I homesick for my mom. Her warmth and kindness can be felt miles away. I'm homesick for days spent baking cookies together, rushing to ice them before the frosting hardens. I'm homesick for her soft hair and laughter. The way she lights up a room with her stories {and yes, she has a few as well!}. I'm homesick for her voice, her big mama bear hugs, and her love.
I've written posts about my parents, and how much I miss them, and how much the distance between us stinks. But we deal. This time of year it's especially hard. And this year in particular. Maybe it's because it's been two months since my last mom fill, or that the kids are getting bigger and really all I want for Christmas is for everyone to be together. It's been three years since we've all been together on Christmas. I know it's just a date on the calendar, but it means something. To me. And it'll happen, one of these years. Until then, we make do. We send a few extra packages and cards during the month of December. We still love, just from farther away. And we're ok. Just at times, a bit homesick for a few people who hold parts me in them.
Let it be Christmas everywhere
In the songs that we sing and the gifts that we bring
Christmas everywhere
In what this day means and what we believe
From the sandy white beaches where blue water rolls
Snow covered mountains and valleys below
~Let it be Christmas, Alan Jackson