As far as I can remember, I’ve celebrated every single Christmas in the same place.
My parents’ house.
There was that Christmas my Dad caught a stray canary, which ended up being Hubbie, then ‘boyfriend’s pet bird aptly named ‘Chrissy.’
The Christmas it hailed golf balls and our cars and the backyard pergola got a beating.
Or the Christmas we went mad throwing water balloons at each other all over the yard, and got told off by my Dad… (oh that was in recent years 😬 )
All those warm Christmases, dancing in the garage, walking to the park, eating, drinking, memory making…
The Christmas I snuck off to see Hubbie-then-boyfriend for a bit. 🤫
The Christmas we drank too much vodka in the first hour. 🥃
The Christmas I drank nothing – with a precious new 4 month old. 😍🤱
The Christmas some of my friends came, and some of my family could not handle the extra crazy. 😜🤪🤩
Today was Christmas number 35.
But… it was spent at my sister’s house.
I thought I would feel more nostalgia going into the day. All of these years of tradition, of memories, retreating to the same backyard post-lunch… and it was all changing.
But very quickly, something became apparent to me.
It wasn’t the location. It was all about the people.
Sure the house was different. The decorations would be different. The food and drink would be a bit different, and sure, the location was completely different.
But different didn’t mean bad. It was different, but it was still beautiful. And of course, there was a lot of love.
All of this was present, the beauty, the love… because the people were the same.
As long as I am with my loved ones, I am happy.
Merry Christmas to all. I hope yours was spent with loved ones, no matter where you were. ❤️🎄🙏🎅