This weekend we spent one of the longest nights of the year huddled with friends around cheese boards and boardgames. Around a fire, forgetting the words to songs we've sung a thousand times. Remembering first impressions and lasting embarrassments. Kids crawled over hay bales and tractors, chased by chickens and dogs. For a moment, we fell into the most classic of gendered stereotypes, while men chopped wood and women prepared lunch.
We piled into cozy corners of the house, nine deep where I laid my head among the snores, sighs, and coughs of children and adults, exhausted from work and play.
This year, like every year, I hold on to the promise of more light coming in to each and every day, pushing out darkness, ushering in new joys we can't even conceive of yet.