It's Yule eve, eve...and that must mean this: my eyes are drooping, my back is aching, my head is spinning, and I have repetitive stress injuries from all the wrapping. It also means we're checking things off our lists, the house smells of good things in the oven, the kids fall into bed, as do we, tired from their day of happy work. There's been a bit of sneaking around, whispers barely uttered and whole conversations had with our eyes. The magic happens when we make it happen. It's that time of year, when the world falls in love, as the song goes, and we fall in love all over again with our rituals, traditions, the bickering (embrace the bickering, or go crazy) the frenzy, the waltz, in three-quarter time. Yes, it's been a long day of dancing, making way for others, moving when the time was right, of finding the correct rhythm. These last four days of Yule will be one big waltz, and I'm in love with the world.
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