Yule is coming down on us like a blizzard, merciless steel clouds in the distance and heavy. So heavy.
As a child, the Solstice was fun and free with all the food I could eat, gifts abound, magick around every corner. I loved it so much. As an adult, by the dinner the feast I cooked is ready, I don’t want to look at it anymore. The gifts come from me and I hate to shop for anything when I can avoid it. The magick is still there, but it’s changed from the joyful ritual of fulfulling my wishes to a somber invocation of the great Gods for protection and stability. I want to show this to Jack, show him the reality of the world, but I also don’t want to shorten any part of his childhood naivety. It’s a hard line to walk.
On the other hand, with nothing but determination to carve out the time and quick hands, I’ve managed to finish the big afghan of knot magick I’ve been working on, just in time. Which is also why I’ve slacked on this journal. It won’t happen anymore because I’m learning to budget my time better.
Mom is healing and Angie is pissy, same as always. This Yule will be quiet and peaceful, no matter how many pieces I have to chop those two into so I can stuff them in the freezer. Jack, of course has been wonderful, patient while I manage everything around the holiday. He says he still believes in Santa, but I think he’s doing it for my sake. I’ll be so sad when he finally confirms he knows it’s me giving him all the gifts. I love playing such a magical entity.