I'll Be Home For Christmas

The sun is shining and my dear friend, Tracie -- an Angel from Montgomery -- is napping beside me. We are being whisked away on the final leg of our journey through the United Kingdom, traveling through luscious Wales to England and Dickensian London. Tomorrow, home.

It has been a week since our arrival, and we've had such lovely adventures, starting with the warm welcome from our partner in Boeville Adventureland, Nicola. Next year in Frankfurt, eh, Nico?

The warm embrace of music, and the men that sing and strum the sweetest songs -- Alfie Boe, Mark Llewelyn Evans, Al Vosper, John Owen-Jones -- will linger long after our British Airways 747 sets down on US terra firma  Saturday.  Thank you all. The lovely reinforcement that I am on the right track with the soundtrack of my life was a beautiful Christmastime bouquet. And Alfie, what can I say: you're simply brilliant.

We will visit the West End tonight, taking in the universally
celebrated "Miss Saigon." But speaking solely for myself, I know I am looking past that spectacle, past London, past the Atlantic.

It's time to go home, where my son, my family and friends await. It's Christmas and I need to smell pine needles, sweet candles, turkey, sweet potatoes and marshmallows, pumpkin pie, spiced apple wine.

I know Tracie feels the same. We're both a little homesick, Tracie for her family in Alabama, her puppies, her life. I am the same wanting badly to see Josh, who is fighting valiantly to settle into a good life. I want to see my little niece, nephew, great nephew. I want to step out of Boeville for a while, and into something more precious.

I know I will return, because I love this virtual playground in Alfie Boe's back yard. Thank you, again, and again for the lifetime pass, Monsieur Le Maire. But for now, my only longing is for home. Both Tracie and know it's time to return to family and "real life" and all that it entails.

We're not through, though. Tracie and I will know when it is time to dust off these newly made memories and look back fondly across the pond, because the laughter and plotting of adventures to come will ensue.

So, Happy Christmas, Damian, Eiryl, Alfie, Michael, Mark, Al, Shivonne, Georgina, Linda W., Gloria, Joan, John, Anna, Wendy, Kathy. It's been a blast. Thank you. Love you. Au revoir.