Home is where the heart is

A Post Christmas Card

December came slowly and left in a rush.

December brought along Christmas, the long-anticipated blast

Which loves making a grand entrance and masters the art of amazingly fast walkout.

And now this Christmas is already a memory, and a part of the recent past.

Each Christmas is the same and completely different than the previous one.

We are all far too familiar with the shopping madness and with the last-minute gifts hunt. We all know far too well that the eternal (un)answered question “will there be enough food?” is what makes the mothers, the grandmothers and all the Christmas hosts out there, tremble in terror. And food always is and always will be on the Christmas table. To feed an army, at least. But the question will hang over the heads of the hardworking, apron holders Christmas cooks, like a life-threatening conundrum.

The menus might differ, but the flavours will be the same.

Each Christmas we try to slow down a bit and try to give more meaning to the time we have and to the time we spend together. Setting aside the glamour and the gifts, the sparkling lights and the fancy decorations, the essence is this: spending quality time together. With our loved ones. Be it our family or our friends. The time we give to each other is the greatest gifts of all. Building memories and sharing laughs. Priceless.

Over the past decade, I was lucky enough to have spent Christmas in different countries and distinct locations. What stayed the same? Having the perfect company. The enlarged family: the blood one, the built one and the friends one. Some are gone forever, but never forgotten. Some are always present and always will be. What connects us (except the love towards each other)? The memories we created and the safe space jointly conceived where we allow to be us and to be vulnerable beyond judgement.

It took me over a decade of celebrated Christmases to properly understand that “home is where the heart is”. I was at home in Germany, in Italy, in Romania, in Belgium thanks to the beautiful souls I had next to me. Home is not a geographically identifiable place, although we do have a birthplace and a childhood house. Home is any location where we are ourselves. Uncensored. Home is any place where we are next to our loved ones.
Home is honesty and stability rousing love, family, and friendship.

My dear readers, I wish you always be home. May you create and live only very merry Christmases, as these will become the stories and the memories.

Lots of love,

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