Christmas Eve Where I Am

I am here, this is where I am.

I shouldn’t be here.

I should be in the green State, on an island

an artist village, and little creators all around

a mass of noise, and joy, and baking

such baking, and time in the kitchen talking

and probably some child’s tears, but they’re warranted

consistency demands I be there, it’s where I have been.

And should be.

I am here, this is where I am.

Should I be here?

I should be in the midwest,

on the hand, “close” to the great lakes

at a house with a barn and a dark dog,

or the small dog

and family with depth and tradition

and independence, ever thoughtful and often sharp

Tech hands, but hearts of agrarians.

With wine and games, and conversations.

Some healing. Truly a place of belonging.

I am here, this is where I am.

Should I be here?

I should be on the coast,

with relatives, wise and wizened.

Fresh-borns, and mid-carrying

and a family not of my blood but Another

with the Sunday afternoons spent

holding one another’s lives up

folding hands together, eyes closed

and yet with holy smiles and thankful hearts

I should be there.

I am here, this is where I am.

Should I be here?

I should be in the old land

my wandering kin, so understanding

with a warm-home, yet unvisited, but

I know what to expect, such food as is

worthy of pausing long over, to savor at length

and praise, with thanks, by the washing of dishes.

And walks to shops, coffee and shared thoughts.

No other family on these dark winter days?

As the most mobile, I really should be there.

I am here, this is where I am.

Should I be here?

I should be warm in the sun,

on a tropical island, familiar and festive

and a language, my own, with

mom and dad, and their household

Talking of faith and of growth, and times in the past

and what has changed, of our Lord and

how He stays just the same.

Not Home, but still home, and a place

full of rest. Less haste. Yes, we talk of

how our lives are so blessed.