Holidailies: I'll be Home for Christmas

"I'll be home for Christmas
You can count on me..."

Tomorrow, after the hiccup of the EEG that Julia is scheduled for, we are hitting the road to my husband's childhood home. It is one of those not so close but not so far away places, the kind that is far enough away that the journey needs a bit of planning (especially with little ones in tow) and yet close enough that the road is boring and unmemorable.

My childhood was rife with journeys--those close to home and those endless roads stretched along the blanket of Alberta skies and rolling hills. I preferred to read in the car, only every so often glancing up to admire the tapestry of the wheatfields, the multi-hued patchwork quilt of farmer upon farmer's daily bread. If the journeys seemed endless it might have been because the landscape changed so rapidly, and yet the variance was so minimal that, at times, in the capsule of the car, it felt like we were locked in some sort of holding position, waiting for the horizon to meet us with a new city, a brilliant sunset, a destination.

Of course, the key part of making these car trips bearable was the prep beforehand. Mom would pack along a huge bag of food and drink, snacks that we didnt get to enjoy other times of the year, fruits that could be eaten with minimal mess, drinks that were allowable only on journeys like these--complete with napkins and stern admonisions not to spill on the upholstory. The kids would bring a motley assortment of toys--Transformers for my brother, books for my sister and myself, our pillows for comfort and some small stuffie to remind us that no matter where we journeyed to, home awaited us.

Having lived close enough to my family home most of my life, I dont recall how if feels exactly to prepare to go home after months of absence. I dont know how my husband maintains the threads of familiarity with his family home and the people who are there. Phone calls, infrequent emails, short visits dont seem to be enough in my books, but since we cant have all the cake and eat it too, sacrifices are made and things go on as best they can.

Still, every year we make this trip to his home and this year, like every year that we have been together (save our one lonely Prince George winter), it will be a whirlwind of Christmas cheer. Yet I am reminded that no matter how far away we roam, a part of my heart will be here,

"...Where the love light gleams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams"