Seven

In the past seven years, I've had seven addresses - seven places that I've attempted to render into limited engagement home sweet homes for myself. I've split time between the midwest and the mid-atlantic. I've squeezed into 600 square feet, and I've spread out in three-story houses. I've been a single tenant, and I've had roommates ranging from rowdy to reserved to downright reclusive. Of the seven, I have wanted nothing more than to move out and move on from six of them, in search of a place in life figuratively and literally that I could tell my friends and family to ink into their contact lists. And then there was the unexpected one among the seven that rose to the occasion.

A couple months ago, when I made the move down Washington, down Benton and into Peter's house, our house, I was expecting that within a year's time we would be moving again. This pristine artifact of retroland, in the exurbs of Chicago complete with keg-orator and saltwater aquarium couldn't possibly be it for us newlyweds. But I believe that in this most unexpected residence I have found my more permanent address.

Although the home sweet home sentiment was mounting throughout December, it became more or less conclusive as Peter ladled clam chowder, the fourth of our seven course fish dinner, into the last of the soup bowls on Christmas Eve. And as I took my seat at the head of the table set for eleven.

Truly, it was this Christmas, through the help of Baum, some new curtains, a daily game of musical furniture set to Christmas carols, the arrival of Moms, Dads, sisters, brothers, grandmas, cousins and dogs, the celebration of Christmas at our parish, the ultimate seven-fish feast, gift exchanges, hearty laughter, a couple tears, and the hearts of this ranch that seem to get closer and closer every day, that I have felt more at home than I have in a very long time.

And it was on Christmas Day, around another beautifully adorned dinner table, surrounded by my extended family, before I took my first bite of turkey, that I toasted to the atomic ranch and to finding home. And although there were jeers at my sappy sentiment, there were also expressions shining with happiness.

Apparently, the story was already written, but my Christmas card wish might just have come true - this was one of the best Christmases ever. And the text and images are coming to you this morning live from my iPad.

Lo.