Where I Want To Be

750 miles away.
I want to be going to the pasture with my family to pick out the Christmas tree.
I want to see my cousins perform in their Christmas programs.
I want to see Liyah - play on the floor - see her smile.
I want to go shopping with my mom.
I want to help bake the millions of kinds of cookies we make every year, more out of tradition than a desire to eat them.
I want to hear my dad ripping the newspaper to start the fire that heats our house.
I want to hear about the little, everyday things. What my grandpa heard at his local 'gossip' hour, the latest grandkid story from my grandma.
"It's my favorite part of Christmas," my cousin Kate said. "What is?" I asked. "You being here," she said. "I like it too," I said, holding back tears. That means a lot from an 11 year old.
Sometimes I wonder why I left...