Home for Christmas

Remember how my first memory is of a tornado ripping right past my preschool in Rockford? Or how I cowered in the staircase at ADPi when the twister flattened half of Iowa City? I am TERRIFIED of tornadoes. And the weather a mere two hours before I left Sevilla to come home for Christmas resembled a tornado warning – wind knocking over trees, freezing sleet.

thankfully my train left on time, my flight from Madrid to Boston was easy and I slept. I got home fine after a four-hour delay in Boston with a friend, though I felt a little like kid from David After Dentist, all head-rolling and stuff. My bags were lost, but I felt so subdued by the lack of sleep that I was patient and calm, helping me to get my bags a mere 10 hours later.

It feels good to be home, snow and all. A little surreal, but almost like I haven’t been gone for the last three months. I mean, we’ve had very little time to do anything but prepare to have guests, eat, cleanup and repeat. Christmas morning was predictable, but we did things backwards and had breakfast first. Something about having your present be a plane ticket kinda takes the excitement out of opening presents Christmas morning…

Matt of Nomadic Matt hasn’t been home for Christmas in four years. I read his post this morning about being away from family during the holidays and couldn’t agree with him more – it’s all about company, food and remembering those who aren’t with you. Read it here. Last year, I spent Christmas Eve at the bar, Christmas lunch at Kike’s mom’s house eating seafood and drinking cava, and the evening at the bar again. It didn’t feel like Christmas, but it was more than enjoyable.

Doesn’t matter where in the world you are. Christmas is a time for celebrating blessings, for remembering those not with you, and living in the moment. Something about the abundance of beer drinking, rummikub and storytelling tells me we had a good one.

Merry Christmas, friends.

Merry Christmas to all!

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About Cat Gaa

As a beef-loving Chicago girl living amongst pigs, bullfighters, and a whole lotta canis, Cat Gaa writes about expat life in Seville, Spain. When not cavorting with adorable Spanish grandpas or struggling with Spanish prepositions, she wrangles babies at an English language academy and freelances with other publications, like Rough Guides and The Spain Scoop.

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