What is a family? Why does it matter? What does it teach us that we can’t learn on our own? These questions seem especially relevant in the holiday season when it is often our tradition to gather as families and celebrate together.

My mother was one of twelve children. As they grew up, married and had children of their own, most of them lived near enough to gather for holidays at my grandparents’ home in a small town in the mountains of North Carolina.

I don’t recall getting many gifts from them. I remember the sense of belonging, of being part of something that assured me I was loved and not alone.

I delighted in the laughing, playing and fighting with my crazy cousins.

I watched my granddad and uncles sit on the porch (门廊), rain or shine, smoking and joking, arguing about politics and trying to solve the problems of the world.

I listened to my grandmother, mother and aunts stir pots on the stove and talk about their lives, hopes, dreams and disappointments, and gossip about any sister who failed to show up.

The food was always plentiful and delicious – country ham, sweet potatoes, green beans, biscuits and my grandmother’s banana pudding. But for me, the food was never the highlight. The highlight was simply being together. A family.

However, they’re all gone now. My parents and grandparents, my aunts and uncles have left this world for the next. My cousins are scattered (分散) here and there. And yet the memories linger, along with the love that we shared.

I treasure those memories and the things they taught me. They told me that families aren’t perfect, but they prepare us to find our way in an imperfect world. They made me realize that all families are crazy in their own peculiar (独特的) ways.

My husband and I are growing a new family, while keeping close to the surviving members of the families. It’s a beautiful blend (混合) of kindness, traditions, nurturing (养育) and friendships, which grows year after year.

I hope this holiday season will fill you with lovely memories of the family that raised you, and surround you with all the people who mean “family” to you now.

When you sleep somewhere else — like at summer camp or a friend’s house — you know you’re in for a fun time. It can be exciting to get away from the same old bed in the same old room in the same old house. But fun as this is, for some kids being away from home can be scary and sad. They want to go and have fun with their friends, but once they’re there, they start to miss their good old bed, their good old parents, and all that everyday stuff at home. It’s called being homesick (想家的).

Homesick means you’re upset, sad, and maybe scared. But don’t feel surprised. A lot of people get homesick, even grown-ups. When you’re used to having certain people and things around you, it can be scary when they’re gone. When you’re dealing with other problems, you will feel homesick, too. Some kids may feel more homesick than usual if their parents are getting divorced or if someone they loved has recently died.

Here are some ideas to help you feel less homesick.

Bring a little bit of home with you. If you’re going away from home, bring your pillow or pictures of the people you’ll be apart from and look at them any time you want.

Keep busy. The more fun stuff you do, the less time you’ll have to feel homesick. Try to join in activities wherever you are.

Stay in touch. You can make a plan for when you’ll call your mom or dad. You can also email or text message to stay in touch with family and friends. When you do get in touch with someone, make sure to talk about the fun things you’re doing!

Talk to someone where you are. Maybe you can tell a friend that you feel homesick. He or she might have some ideas to help you feel better.

When I was first married to my wife, I lived and worked in Ontario, moving from small town to big city as I pursued my career as a radio broadcaster. We have two sons, both of whom were born in Toronto, but they moved, with us, to Ottawa when they were quite young. They grew up there, and then, chasing their own careers, they also moved. One went to Canada’s east coast near a city called Halifax and the other headed to the west coast to Vancouver. We had a dilemma; we were left in the middle.

At the time I was still working and my job was in Ottawa. However, as we began to consider retirement we wondered where we should spend our final years. We couldn’t be close to both of our children and there was no telling when they might again relocate. For several reasons we settled on a small town on Vancouver Island. At least we were close to one of them. However, he had his sights set on Hollywood and, when an opportunity presented itself, he left Canada and headed south. I helped him move.

So, there we were, and still are, in our little west coast town. We love our little corner of paradise but we have paid a price. We have not been there for some important events such as the births of two of our grandchildren. We have missed watching each of them grow up; we have missed the normal, noisy households that have young people in them. Our home, while very comfortable, is also very quiet.

Every fall we travel to see the children. We usually fly, first to California to see our son Scott and spend a week or more with him trying to catch up on everything we’ve missed. Then, usually in November, we make the even longer trip east across Canada to see Travis and our grandchildren, who are now teenagers, actually into their twenties. They seldom come to visit us. The distances are just too great and it is costly.

Fortunately, both our boys are doing well and our grandchildren are growing up straight and tall. We love all of them and we are secure in the knowledge that they love us but the reality is that they don’t need us. We have done our jobs and, at least in theory, we can sit back, relax and enjoy the time remaining to us. They have also missed having a set of parents and grandparents around.

Life has been good for our family but we have all paid a price.