For many 21st century families, the song “There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays” inspires a bit of nostalgia. We are a transient culture. Very few of us have ancestral homes to return to, or roots firmly established in soil.
When my kids are grown and asked where they are from, there will probably be three different answers depending on the child. But I like to think that our family has established its roots in the hearts of each other. “Home is where your heart is,” and all of that.
When we moved from our Midwestern home four years ago, we left one of our children behind. He’s 27 years old and has already established a life there. When we get a chance to have him “home,” he’s coming to a place where he’s only been a handful of times, and he stays in the guest room. The same is true for any of our extended family members and friends. And luckily, we get a lot of visitors.
During the first year we were here, I would get obsessive and even a little bit panicky when people visited. Everything had to be absolutely perfect for our guests. I was so worried that if everything wasn’t just “homey” enough, they wouldn’t come back. And if they didn’t come back, then we would lose them. Lose our connection to home. Because for us, home comes visiting. And I need it to come back because I am homesick … especially during the holidays.
That first year, I would peruse all the Pinterest boards about guest rooms and manically pin every post about making them homey. This was the first time we had a guest room or the need for one. I researched bedding and towels and sought out the best comforters, all nicer than what our family uses. (“Are you using one of the guest towels?! Those are NOT for you! They are only for the GUESTS!”) I had to have perfect posies in homey jelly jars on the bedside table and locally sourced goatmilk soap. There had to be slippers and carefully chosen bedside books and magazines (Edible Western NY is great for out-of-towners!).
But what one beloved friend very gently told me (only kidding—she was blunt and mocking, just like I like) is that our guests aren’t guests. Our visitors aren’t customers. They are our friends and family. They don’t come to visit our house; they come to be with us. We don’t need to earn a five-star review on Yelp. We just need to be our quirky, open, hysterical, too-loud selves, because being together is the main attraction.
Of course, I still like to provide a nice space for our friends and family, but I don’t panic about it. This past summer, I gave our guest room a makeover. Although it was cozy before, the dark paneling needed brightening and the old carpet needed to go. And while I still like to set out a little basket of local goods and a jelly jar of posies on the nightstand—and I still save the best towels and sheets for visitors—if the basket doesn’t get put together because of the chaos of life, or the posies don’t end up in the jelly jar, it will be OK. We will still have a wonderful time being with each other.
When friends and family come to stay for the holidays it makes the season feel much more real to me. Because of my husband’s job, we can’t really travel for Thanksgiving and Christmas. When I was growing up, we always had big family gatherings filled with extended family, delicious food and plenty of laughter. Now, our holiday celebrations are large gatherings of friends and family filled with the same things.
I love how our celebrations have evolved since we moved far from home (usually a lot less drama and baggage, to be honest), but I still miss them all. It’s a blessing any time of the year to spend time with those I’ve loved for my entire life, sharing inside jokes and knowing I can just be myself. This is especially so during Thanksgiving, when we celebrate life’s bounty, and Christmas, that relief from the darkness that envelops our part of the world every winter.
This holiday season, a steady stream of home will once again come visiting and I cannot wait. Bing croons, “If you want to be happy in a million ways, for the holidays you can’t beat home sweet home.”
I couldn’t agree more.
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