There are cold germs currently wreaking havoc on my exhausted immune system, forcing my head to feel as if it’s stuck in a mucus-encrusted vice. Pleasant. I have to be honest, it’s been hard not to wallow in my suffering. But then I look around, at the Christmas tree shimmers twinkling against the early December nights and the presents I can’t wait to wrap, and I realize there’s so much to be thankful for.
Even, and maybe especially, when I’m sick.
Such as them. My 3 kids. Brilliant and beautiful each in their own. Completely and totally individual, they’re so different it’s almost astonishing they’re related. But I don’t know where I’d be without the many facets of these diamonds in my life. One with her curly hair, one with his missing teeth, and the other. That other. He surprises me every day.
And this. Here. Home. With them, because it’s not home without them. Where I can be a shivering sick in a comfortable chair that I’ve worn to the shape of me while draped in a blanket most likely smeared with pieces of Pop Tart and crumbs that I keep forgetting to wash. Sitting in front of our glowing white artificial Christmas tree, with a growing collection of sentimental ornaments. With a mess of toys in every direction. It’s not extravagant, but this, here, tells the story of us. My life with them. There’s no place else I’d rather be.
There’s no place like home for the holidays.
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