I think I’m becoming a bit blue at the thought of the holidays coming up. I’ve felt a bit estranged from everything, my home and family and friends, over the past months; the holiday season naturally makes this feeling of loneliness a bit sharper. I don’t feel comfortable around Phil’s family, as they know about the separation and had a kind of “wait it out – men will be boys” philosophy about it. I won’t feel very comfortable about being there this Christmas.
I suppose, as we get older, we all miss the Christmasses of our childhood. Those memories become over-sentimentalised over the years, and we also lose the wonder that we invested the holiday with as children. It helps a bit if you have young children of your own, which I don’t. I miss the smell of baking cinnamon rolls waking everyone in the morning, and chatting with my sisters and parents in the huge kitchen as the meal is prepared. I miss my father getting a bit tipsy as the day goes on, and the dogs who waited with shining eyes for a scrap of carved turkey. I even miss the country-western Christmas carols – I miss it all.
We’re so scattered now. I miss family, I miss friends. I don’t want to move back home – I burned too many bridges to move here – but I do miss the warmth of being wrapped in family.