There's no place like home for the holidays...

Unless you can be in Ohio.

Nearly all of my favorite Christmas memories have been from the years we've spent with my dad's family in the Cleveland or Columbus suburbs. There's something enchanting about my grandma's house. I love homes that totally reflect the people who live there; my grandma's house is one of them.  It's so warm and loving, and the fifteen minute buildup when everyone in the car recognizes we're almost there just adds to the excitement of the arrival. My grandma always makes homemade cookies, nutroll, and pierogies around the holidays. All of my little cousins and their parents come and we get to be truly carefree for the few glorious days.  Everyone still believes in Santa Claus. Usually, if there's snow, we go sledding on a hill my dad used to go down when he was a kid.

If we're in Strongsville (where my grandma lives), we take a walk on Christmas Eve to a nearby neighborhood where a group of four or five houses adorns more Christmas lights than all of Herndon and Reston put together. Families from all around come with their cameras and walk the pathways lit with candy canes and toy trains. My family used to drive there instead of walk when I was little, and I still remember getting out of the car, about five years old, singing "Jingle Bells" with my grandma and forgetting all of the words.  I'm so happy I get to be with them this year.  I'm going to miss sitting at the kids' table.