The church bells haven't rung yet. It's just me and the quiet and the work that has to be done regardless of what day it is.

Mama says I'm wasting the beauty by working, but I think that's where the beauty is. In doing the necessary things anyway. In taking care of what depends on you. In showing love through work that no one watches you do.

On Christmas morning, this feels especially true. The gifts are still under the tree inside. The feast is hours away. But the animals need feeding. The fire needs tending. The water needs drawing. These things don't change just because it's Christmas, and somehow that makes Christmas feel more real to me, not less