It’s the end of the year, the holidays are upon us, and post after post and article after article in the travel world has lists and advice for the best places to spend the holidays.

Sure, sitting on an exotic beach somewhere instead of freezing my ass off here in the good old midwest sounds nice, but after spending our first Christmas away from home during our RTW trip back in 2008, I now have a different viewpoint.

For years we (OK, I, my wife has always liked staying home for Christmas) talked about how great it would be not to have to deal with the hassle that comes along with holidays. Coordinating different families’ schedules, driving all over the city and beyond, and trying to see and please everyone becomes tiring at times.

“Next year,” I said, “we are just taking off and going somewhere for Christmas,” I would say.

But after spending my first out of 30 away from home back in 2008, I suddenly missed being home.

I forgot about the hassles and remembered great times with my family.

I remember my childhood, going to Church and then dinner on Christmas Eve with my parents and grandparents.

I remember then receiving my one “special” present on Christmas Eve before the bonanza the following morning (at 32, I still get a “special” present from Dad).

I remember my grandparents staying the night at our house.

I remember running downstairs, excited and crazy as an 8-year-old can be, at 5am, and jumping on my grandparents’ bed to wake them up.

I remember my Dad and Grandpa cursing while trying to put together my Castle Grayskull, which came in approximately 10,976 parts.

I remember going to one of closest friends’ houses Christmas night our senior year in high school and having my first bout with tequila.  I lost.

I remember coming home from college, excited and eager to see everyone and continue our traditions.

I remember when Megan and I started new traditions with our families.

I remember hosting Christmas Eve for the first time.

I remember making the very untraditional fare of fondue, shrimp, steak kabobs, and a tapas style dinner on Christmas Eve.

I remember missing Christmas while we were in Buenos Aires.

I remember making the most of being way by cooking a delish steak dinner, with plenty of Malbec.

I remember how awesome I thought our parents were for still getting together despite the fact that we were thousands of miles away.

I remember them setting the computer at the corner of the table while skyping with us, making us feel as though we were there with them, celebrating.  It’s one of those memories that’s forever engrained in my mind.  Such an awesome moment.

I remember last year, back home again, and cooking empanadas to bring a little bit of Argentina to the celebration.

While we loved all our time in Buenos Aires, Argentina for Christmas that year, something was missing.  It just didn’t feel right (even though I could get used to wearing shorts and sandals on Christmas).  And while we seem to go out of town all the time for New Year’s Eve, Christmas is just different.  On Christmas, I feel like we belong at home.

While travel is obviously a major passion of ours, and I have been pining to get back on the road since our return home over 14 months ago, this is not one of those times.  I am happy to be home.  I am happy not to be in some exotic place away from those I love.

What are some of your favorite holiday memories, travel related or not?  Comment below.  I wish everyone out there, wherever you may be, a fantastic Christmas, Hanukkah, or whatever you choose to celebrate!