Homesick: Forever

This will be the first year that Dan and I spend Christmas with my family. It will be the first Christmas of his life away from his own family. To him I say, “Welcome to my world!”.

I've been away from my own family the last two Christmases and the last five Thanksgivings. That blows my mind a little bit – five years of Thanksgivings away from the people I am most thankful for. I still like to say things like “in my family, we do this [insert tradition] on Thanksgiving/Christmas” – when the truth is, how would I know? At this point the tradition is me not being there.

I spent the actual Christmas holiday in Massachusetts with my husband’s family the past two years mostly due to happenstance – I did see my family around the holidays, just not right on Christmas, closer to the New Year instead. Two years ago we went to Tennessee (where my Mom is from) and last year in Virginia (where my brother’s family lives). This year we’ll be back in East Tennessee for the three days around Christmas and, even though it won’t be the California holiday I was hoping for, I am still quite excited. About half of the Christmases of my childhood were spent at my mother's family's home near the Smokey Mountains and it feels as much like nostalgic, “real” Christmas to me as anywhere else. There’s something about my Grandmother’s house that smells like being a kid and every nook and cranny holds a memory. It’s the kind of easy remembrance I hope my own children feel one day about my parents’ home. That is, if I ever go back to Redlands again ::sob::

The last time I was in Redlands was for my wedding, well over a year ago. This is the longest stretch I have ever gone without a trip home – with no firm plans, as of right now, to be there in the future. It breaks my heart, more than a little bit. I miss it so much, all the time, but especially lately.

No matter how much I love Boston (and I do, a lot), it doesn’t have the same comforting familiarity, it doesn’t hold my history like an open secret. I can only day-dream now of driving down Cajon Street, strolling up State Street, stopping into Las Brasas for carne asada, twisting around the AK Smiley Library and lolling about on the grass of the Redlands Bowl. If only I could go for a jog up into Prospect Park or zip around the curves of Smiley Heights, then perch with my journal and a latte on the patio of Grounds - or Stell or Fox or whatever the heck its called now? I can’t keep up any more – Jazz’n’Java doesn’t even exist any more. It’s been gone for awhile, but it still blows my mind.

My mother is required to regularly give me the scoop on “what’s new” in the city; what streets are being reconstructed, what restaurants/shops are being opened/closed, which high schools’ football team is dominant, how many Starbucks are there now? I can’t believe the “donut hole project” is actually complete (you really have to be from the area to know what I’m about talking about on that one). And, you guys, that was finished years ago and still it feels brand new to me. The novelty of having a Target within city limits hits me with fresh joy every time. Which is so depressing – I realize that the things about Redlands that are now normal and urbane to its actual residents are like tourist monuments to me; I have become a visitor in my own home.

We’ll (most likely) never leave the Boston area, and I am, really, more than okay with that – this is the life I chose, not just because of Dan. I have told him that, deep down, my greatest desire would be to raise our children in Redlands. But its not something that I spend time or energy actually longing for because I know it will never happen. Our careers would not mesh there, for one. Also, could you even imagine Dan as a West Coast dweller? He is all New England through and through, in only the best sense, of course. I think all the sunshine would make him insane. The California skiing isn’t half-bad, which he could get used to. At least, if an until my parents retire elsewhere, I will always have a home in Redlands to visit and, hopefully,a few friends left to reconnect with.

There’s not any resolution to be had, being torn between homes. Because, now, New England is nearly as much a part of me. Were I to leave here I’d miss it just as much, though in a different way. Now Boston encapsulates an entire era of my life, more and more with each passing season. The best I can do is accept with gratitude how wonderful it is to have more than one "home" to go to, to know the people there, to have memories that span the country and to feel at ease in places so polar opposite.

So this year, I will be home for Christmas, both in reality and also in my dreams.