The holidays always bring a little bit of homesickness. I guess it’s the old memories and the lost loved ones that we know won’t have a present under the tree. I love Christmas as much as any kid does and still believe in the magic of it, but there’s still something a little bit sad about the Christmas lights glowing in a dimly lit, quiet living room late at night. 

When the kids are sound asleep and my wife is taking the babysitter home, I find myself looking at that tree and missing days gone by. 

The strange thing is, what helped my homesickness wasn’t looking at pictures of Mama or reflecting on cherished Christmas memories; what comforted me was putting on some Randy Travis and just soaking in the music. There was something about the old familiar melodies that made me feel like I was in another time surrounded by all the things I miss. 

As I sat in my chair and sad cheating songs echoed down the hall I remembered that after my family and friends, country music has always been my true companion. I recalled a day in Haiti ten years ago when I was feeling lonesome so I pulled up George Strait on my phone and spent a few minutes visiting with one of my oldest friends. It wasn’t home, but it was enough to make me feel like I’d been there briefly. 

I’ve lived in Georgia, Tennessee, Kentucky, and now Alabama and that makes home hard to find sometimes. As a friend once said, I’m not from any one place, I’m just from the South. They say you can’t go home again and I guess that’s true, especially when you’ve called as many places home as I have. 

I can go back to the house I grew up in but the things I miss about home aren’t there anymore. Mostly the version of me that learned guitar on that front porch and sat with a beagle named Barney Junior on the back patio. 

But I can listen to some Don Williams, and that’s a mighty fine second place to going home.