My oldest is moving home to California. She lived in Florida for two years. She left on a road trip home, the day after Thanksgiving.
My readers know of my love of enchanted road trips. Every road trip is enchanting in one way or another. Not as otherwordly as Ginny’s in Winnemucca, perhaps. But they all create memories that last a life time. And jokes that find their way to the family’s dinner table. Two of the most enchanting things in the wide-world, IMHO. But this season of advent is even more magical for me. Not only do I open my window every day counting down the days to Christmas, this morning there was a crow in window #5 (which will make my hubby happy), but I scan the map of the United States and see how much closer my daughter is to California. By now, she might have driven across the state line. It’s been quite a week to get in your Ford Focus with your Scottish Terrier and drive over the plains, the Rockies and the Sierra. Tonight she will spend some time with her grandma. Tomorrow she comes home.
You don’t think about these kind of things when you are stuffing stockings for little ones. But they do grow up. And soon, they aren’t around your table at one holiday or another. And you miss them. When it gets really crazy this holiday, if you are like me and maybe burn a pie or make something that is truly horrible, or maybe want to drive too fast to get that one more thing done––slow down and hug your kids, or hug your boyfriend. Hug whoever you’re with.