December 26, 2015 by jeliwobble
I wrote this in 2011. It’s still largely true, except now my sisters both have children, one of whom has a birthday in the next few days, and I feel even more more keenly.
Christmas is supposed to be about family and, to be honest, my little family is the most awesome, wonderful, amazing thing in my life. We had a lovely Christmas Day, very chilled out, speaking to family over the internet, video conferencing, eating the traditional fare, opening presents from Santa in the morning and the tree in the afternoon and topping it all off with a Christmas film before bed.
However, it’s right now, on Boxing Day morning, when the tiny bits of wrapping paper are still blowing the floor and the needles from the tree are more obvious, when the turkey soup should be cooking and the Lazy Susan gets dusted down for the pickles, when all the creams have gone from the choccy tin and the pretzel selection pack just has the little round crackers that no one likes left, when the house is filled with the extended family from all over, eating cold turkey and ham and drinking the last bottles of wine in the warm, mashed potatoey atmosphere, when everyone is jammed into the dining room after lunch to play Triv or Texas Hold ‘Em until the wee hours; that’s when I miss being home.