Up until now, the concept of Home was a trip to DFW for the holidays. Didn't matter whether it was a drive or a flight. Arriving was a great comfort. But I never looked forward to turkey, or football, or Black Friday. For me, the draw was always friends.
My reuniting 'family,' such as it was, was generally just my mom and me. It's always been good to see her, and it's a very rare Thanksgiving that I don't spend with her, but since we're always in touch, the friend reunions sparked joy.
Whether I was late teens or early 30s, the pattern generally looked the same: gather at my suburb's Starbucks, or at a friend's house and play games. Things picked up where they left off, no matter who could make it out.
No longer. In late August and early September, I took a road trip to Texas to move my mom out to California. She's here now (and the trip was only mildly psychologically traumatic). But it means that "home" has moved. No more November in DFW for me.
It's a life transition. By this point next year I'll almost certainly be married (don't get too excited - this pandemic means there won't be grand, special moments). My lady and our parents will all be here in San Diego. But the lady and I will be making that 'home' that others will come to.
As I write, it's Thursday night. Everyone's home, having eaten, and it's a quiet night. I'm alone, due to a last-minute pandemic mishap that meant my wonderful lady was exposed to more people than usual. Even though it's actually been years, it still feels like the right thing to do would be to gather at someone's house in Arlington and plug in some games for an all-nighter.