There were probably 40 or so family members over at our place on Christmas Day, my Dad’s side of the family. (Another 40 – 50 friends and family members from my husband’s side dropped by the following week. Catholic families … ) The living room, dining room, and kitchen of our modest three-bedroom semi were bustling and kids of all ages ran up and down from the basement playroom. Young adults gossiped over drinks in the kids’ bedroom and the cold room was piled high with cases of beer and pop and juice. The dining room table was pushed back to accommodate a buffet meal and a bushy Christmas tree and new buffet hugged the other walls. The new home turns out to be a good party space in the same way that the best clubs and restaurants are always the ones filled to capacity. It had been transformed from a cluttered home to two over-worked parents and two young children to a hub of holiday cheer. It was good. But I guess it makes sense that Colum emerged from the basement around 10pm and tugged at my sleeve, “Mommy, I’m ready to go home.”
We spent the holidays warming our new house in good part, but now that everything is back to normal, it is nice to be home.
Happy New Year, one and all.