Later on, we both will be together::

It sounds selfish... and it is.

I want to go home, alone.

I want to sleep on the couch my mother chose, in a pile of dogs and blankets, surrounded by the sounds of our middle-aged house. The dishwasher running, the low hum of voices in the kitchen, a faint tumble of the dryer, the creak of aging windows and wooden floors. The switch of the electric heater, pushing warm air loudly through the ducts and out the vents, the last sound I heard before I left what is now my father's little home, that Cold Dark December Morning.

Brothers, Father, Mother. Family. Just one more time, please.

Holidays are hard now. 2.5 days with my increasingly complex family; 2.5 days with his sweet, little family. One long, stressful cross-country flight, back and forth. Thankful for gracious and selfless families who are just happy to see us, however long or short. Who understand we cannot be all places at once. Their generosity and sheer joyfulness makes me cry. How did we get so lucky to be so loved?