I Love to Travel, but There’s No Place Like Home

Sliding into my boots and my warm winter jacket, I opened the garage door this morning to retrieve the mail and small package that was left in my mailbox yesterday. I missed picking up the mail because my son came home yesterday, and we were excited to catch up with him over dinner. After dinner, we played a new card game and shared some laughs. As I turned around to walk back to the house, I gazed at my home, decorated for Christmas, and felt the warm memories of all the past family Christmases together. I thought about the years of raising our children here for the past 28 years, and I wondered if my son felt the nostalgia too when he returned.

My thoughts flash-backed to my family home that my parents bought in the early 1950s. They already had 4 children in tow, my other sister and I were not born yet. After my parents retired to move somewhere warm, they sold the home to my oldest sister, and she still owns it today. I know some families move often and do not get attached to their homes, but our family is different in that respect.

When I walk into my family home, built during the turn of the century, I can feel the memories come alive, especially those created at Christmas time. We always had a large tree on top of two platforms that held a Lionel train and a smaller HO model. Inside the train tracks were a variety of Plasticville houses that I still have today although they are a little worse for wear. On the top platform, we laid out the nativity scene. The tree and train were always a Christmas Eve project because when we were young children, Santa Claus brought all of that with our presents. We continued that tradition when we were older, but this time, all of us helped to create the magic.

When I married, my husband and I had to compromise. So after a few years of Christmas Eve tree decorating, he finally convinced me to put up the tree at Thanksgiving which was his family tradition. To accommodate my traditions, we hung up the stockings the week before Christmas even though he wanted them up sooner. Our tree is on one platform with a train and ceramic houses that I’ve bought over the years. Not quite the large layout my parents had, but it’s similar enough to feel like we are carrying on the tradition.

So why am I writing about home life on my travel blog? Because while I love to travel, there’s no place like home. Traveling opens us up to new ideas, different foods, and interesting people. But when it’s time to leave to travel back home, I feel the anticipation of sleeping in my own bed and seeing my loved ones. As I walk back to my house and open the door, I think to myself, “there’s no place like home”. Merry Christmas!