Santa Eve. Readying for tomorrow, tidying corners, making things beautiful. We wrap, as we do every year until the wee hours, hoping that the treasures collected months or weeks ago still speak to our children, let them know they are understood, cherished, and adored. Alex and I recall other years, how funny things strike us after midnight, how much we grumble about this ritual but secretly love the squirreling away of items and folding them into gorgeous paper, tying bows, all with the knowledge about how ephemeral it all is. That in a handful of hours, the paper will be torn, the bows will be cut. That our children grow before our eyes and these years are precious and things will change. We know this. We know these rituals are important and more than being about material possessions and surprise. We know it to be about nurturing spirits, honoring the individual, loving on them just a moment longer. This is home. This is family. This is where the lovelight gleams.
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