When I was a kid, Santa came to our house, which was the most fun when my grandparents were there. After I was married, gifts were piled around the tree at my wife’s grandmother’s house in Arkansas. Years later, the celebration moved to her parents, and then back to what was again “our house.”
In recent years, with only an upstairs apartment at my oldest son’s house, I get to go wherever and whenever the family wants to meet. We’ll spend the better part of the day together, eating, sharing stories, and watching the kids have fun with their presents. I might get a Santa picture like last year. Or maybe we’ve outgrown that tradition.
With my oldest granddaughter now in college, those who can gather when and where is sure to change again. The time and place doesn’t matter that much.
I’ve learned to consider “home” to be wherever I get to spend time with family, which can be in the U.S. or Canada, at my place or elsewhere. It doesn’t really matter. I try to enjoy each time we have together as if it will be my last opportunity. Because the truth is, there will never be another season exactly like this year.
May you have a delightfully merry Christmas, feeling at home with family and friends.