Home is a curious concept. Generally, we use the term to suggest a snuggly place that feels like ours. Where we can feel comfortable and secure. In many ways, it's as emotive a word as love. People use it sparingly. It truly means something to use it to describe a location. Understandably, if your parents' home doesn't feel like your home any more, you're liable to call it something different than you may have as a child. And yet, often, at Christmas, people with their own homes will still describe themselves as 'going home for Christmas' when they explain they're staying with their parents for a few days.
About 12 years ago, I remember driving home from University for Christmas. It was inexplicably clichéd. There was snow in the fields nearby and 'Driving Home for Christmas' was playing on the radio. It was perfect in its way. Three hours later, I was home and enjoyed a lovely Christmas with my parents. That was my last taste of 'going home' for Christmas.
That sounds bleak but there's generally a 'last' time for most of us. It's how life goes. Now, I live with my chronically ill mother, with my father having died 10 years earlier. It means Christmas is a little more stressful. There's a terrifying amount of preparation to make it feel like we're doing Christmas 'properly'. Often, it's just nice to have got to the actual day vaguely sane and without having mentally imploded too much. I don't like to be 'that' person, but as the time nears, I can't help but be a little envious when I see friends and peers finishing up their work for the year, buying a few gifts and heading home, knowing that they'll be well and truly looked after for a few days. No need for them to remember to defrost the turkey or to cut up seemingly endless quantities of vegetables. Not everyone is as lucky, of course, but when it comes to the people I know, this tends to be the case.
from Eurogamer.net https://ift.tt/2R7KqVA
https://ift.tt/2rLBHdl December 19, 2018 at 01:30PM https://ift.tt/2CT6urR
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