A couple of years ago, my brother wasn't going to make it home for Christmas. The job he was working at the time sucked, and he was scheduled to work December 23 and December 26. Driving 15 hours round trip just didn't seem worth it only to be home for a few hours more than that. Not to mention, his little Honda Civic probably wouldn't have made the drive. My sister had flown in a few days before Christmas. We picked her up at the Jacksonville airport and she stayed with us until Christmas Eve, when we all piled into our little car and drove out to my parents' house.
We got there early afternoon, unpacked and got busy helping Mom put the final touches on Christmas. Then Miles, their little puggle dog, started barking. And he barked some more. And he barked some more. My mom said, "I think somebody's here." I went to the front door and saw my sister's car. It took me a minute to process, but there he was ... my little brother, all packed up in my sister's Yaris, standing in mom and dad's front yard. I remember becoming completely overwhelmed with emotion when I saw him. Throwing my arms around his neck, I choked back the tears. And in good little brother fashion, he made fun of me. Boys ... they never grow up.
As a kid, I'll Be Home for Christmas was just another song. It didn't have much meaning to me ... nothing more than a pretty tune. As an adult, it's become very personal. This year we will all be together, as we've always been. There's nothing more special then waking up Christmas morning to a house full of people, lights twinkling on the tree, and the smell of turkey cooking in the oven. I can't wait.
Merry Christmas!
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