Blog
December: All Roads Lead Home
By: E.B. Page
Christmas is going to be at my house this year and although I’m almost thirty years old, it’s my first time having real house guests. Five house guests to be exact. A Christmas Eve dinner for twenty and Christmas Day dinner for nine.
I would usually be nervous about such an undertaking, but because of how I’ve been feeling lately it seems like the planning and coordination involved will prove insurmountable. Part of it is inexperience, the other is the fact that depression always plagues me at this time of year. It comes with the snow, creeping up throughout November. In December I plunge into its depths as frigid temperatures take hold in a typical Northwestern Ontario winter. Exercise and a lot of self care usually helps me manage this, but a painful case of bursitis has kept me indoors and on ice. I’ve struggled to find some Christmas spirit for my children as I long for my bed, heavy with comforters, blocking out the noise of the outside world.
As it approaches I fear I won’t be up for the task. Hosting mothers, fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers who have hosted Christmas dinners for decades; Generations of two families joining together under one roof. The roof we’re under also happens to be the old family home in the country. We bought it this summer from my grandmother. My whole heart is in this home; I spent a good part of my childhood making memories here. I want to rise to the occasion, to give back what I’ve received, to pass it on to the next generation. I was looking at some Christmas decorations trying to put myself in the mood when I came across this delightful sign:
(Found Here)
This phrase pushed me right through the fog of sadness I’ve been living in and resonates deep within my soul. Our family isn’t together often, but we try to be for the holidays, and this year all roads are leading to my home.
This simple phrase reminded me how important this year’s memories are going to be for my boys. We only have Christmas with them every second year, and soon they will be rapidly approaching adulthood. The magic of Christmas will be lost on them until they have children of their own. Thankfully, my parents and grandparents instilled values that created a family who gathers together the way we do. I know that so many are not this fortunate, and it makes me want to try even harder to make my parents proud, and give this same gift to my boys.
My childhood is colored with fond memories of sledding followed by hot chocolate, big family dinners, trays and trays of christmas goodies, games and laughter. My parents house and my heart were always full as we came together Christmas morning. The tree was always stacked with gifts built up high above the bottom tree branches and cascading to the floor in a mosaic of of christmas colored joy. The brunch, followed by long luxurious hours left alone with our new toys, as the smell of turkey spread from one room to the next.
This Christmas I have the privilege of opening my home, enjoying my family, and creating memories for my children to cherish. As my husband and I take on the roles previously held by an elder generation I want to create this feeling, so as the kids grow up they are drawn to their childhood home, if only occasionally. Drawn in by the lights, the food, the family, and of course the ridiculous eight foot Santa Claus my husband put on the front lawn.
If I can push through and give them the gift I was given by my family, they just might find themselves with a little bit of nostalgia for the holidays, many years from now, and make their way home.