It's weird how Christmas changes and you realize what makes it special. This year it hit me as we were driving home with the music of Chance the Rapper filling the front seat while the cutely annoying sounds of some plastic kids toy came from the back.

This year, like last, we have a tiny adorable baby in our family for Christmas. But my brothers are across the country and my sister is in Jamaica. And none of us are spending the night with my parents. My mom's parents just moved into an assisted living home. And all of that hurts. It's life and it's what happens but it hurts and it's weird. I want to watch Jingle All the Way with my siblings. I want to slink down to the basement where my little brother will surely be watching a bowl game or SportsCenter.

But there's joy on the horizon. Barring any hitches, our next Christmas will be spent in our first home and that's exciting. I look forward to filling that home with many fun memories. But right now I'm stuck in the nostalgia of what Christmas used to be. And nostalgia is the enemy of happiness.