It’s a common theme for luxury car commercials and Ion Life Christmas movies.
Whether it’s over the river, through the woods or via the front door of Froedtert Hospital, we all want to be home for Christmas. That includes my Dad who slept in his own bed last night for the first time in six weeks.
His own damn bed, up the extremely steep, narrow and winding staircase. Not the guest bedroom on the first floor. The man is extremely stubborn.
Which is what landed him in the hospital in the first place, but also got him outta there as quickly as possible after a major operation.
I’m also going home for the holidays – Dad’s home, to be exact. My sister and I will once again share our childhood bed, sporting matching Christmas PJ’s and taking turns making sure he doesn’t fall down those damn stairs.
We’ll also get to spend more time together than we have since graduating from college 13 years ago. Too much of a good thing is a great thing, right? We’ll see.
Regardless, we’ll all be together for Christmas, sneaking vodka into our drinks at Mom’s Christmas party, while Dad sips thickened, ice-cold Coca Cola.