I Won’t Be Home For Christmas

Christmas in exile

According To Hoyt

I won’t be home for Christmas. And neither will you. And in fact, very few people throughout what was once quaintly called Christendom will be home for Christmas.

When I was thinking about this post, I was going to say that we’d never spent Christmas on the road, but that’s not precisely true. Our technically first Christmas together was spent in Portugal. See, our wedding was on the 28th of December, so we went over a little earlier (about a week.) For one, I needed to have fittings on the gown. No, don’t ask. Yes it was insane.

But that was arguably better than our second Christmas, when we were alone. Being childless and away from all family, even though I’d cooked a turkey breast for lunch, we found ourselves all out of sorts, so we went out in the evening to a steakhouse, and that was worse, actually. Because…

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2 thoughts on “I Won’t Be Home For Christmas

  1. Hugs! At my age mine is the home they come to. Of course, this isn’t the home where my daughter grew up, and my son’s children barely saw the one home where there father had grown to maturity, but at least some were here.

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