We had a lovely “Thanksgiving weekend” here in Vienna. We ate excellently, we went ice skating, we visited Christmas markets, we spent time with friends, we Skyped with our family at home, we even got to sleep in a little. It was really lovely, and I feel like we made the most out of our self-created long weekend to enjoy ourselves and be thankful for what we have.
But I really missed being home. I missed the family gathering. I missed visiting with everyone. I missed it all. I really wished we were there. I was kicking myself for not planning a trip home for Thanksgiving. And I’m also kicking myself for not planning a trip home for Christmas.
Because even though last year I decided I wanted, more than anything, to be with my family for Christmas this year, I didn’t make it happen. Part of the decision was financial (it just isn’t in our budget right now) and part of it was practical (Christmases in Vienna are fleeting and temporary, so we want to soak them in while we can). And although those are both really good reasons, I’ve spent a fair bit of time over the past few days wishing I could make it work to go home for the holidays, or at least visit sometime over the next month.
It’s so true — the holidays aren’t really about the food or the gifts or the setting. They’re about the people you share the moments and the memories with. We’re having some amazing moments and building wonderful memories here, but I really wish our holidays were being spent with even more of the people we love the most.