It starts with a trip up into the attic and boxes recovered from what seems to be ages ago. The careful unwrapping of decorations and ornaments – some new, some generations old. Each a memory. Each a treasure.
We hang garland on the banister. We string lights outside. We set our Pandora station to “Christmas,” whip up my grandmother’s eggnog, and trim the tree.
These traditions are what make our house a home for the holidays.
Each holiday season becomes embedded into the energy of the house. If you’re quiet, you can almost hear the hum of memories past and those to be made. The wood beams absorb the collective sounds of our children, squealing at the sight of a new bike under the tree and the smells of cookies fresh out of the oven.
Our house is more than the box that holds our stuff. It’s a hug that embraces us when we walk in the door. With every coat of paint lovingly covering each of the rooms, spread out over years of owning the house, it seems to love us back. We take care of our home and it seems to take care of us.
Would the holidays be any less special in another house? In an apartment? In a condo or co-op or a place rented instead of owned? I suspect not. It’s what’s within your dwelling that makes it special. However, there is something to be said, in our circumstances, for that something special that enhances our experience. It’s the long history of searching for the right house, financing it, and pulling up in moving trucks. It’s the sparse furniture placement that became fuller as our lives became fuller. Babies being brought home from the hospital there. Birthdays celebrated. Family members mourned. Thanksgiving turkeys stuffed.
And every emotion brought together at the holidays at the end of the year, like the cherry on top.
This season, whatever and wherever you celebrate, we hope you create lasting memories that take you home.
