Screaming like a fool on Yule’s Eve.

I found myself screaming today, it’s Yule’s Eve. I always do that during this day. There must be a karmic reason for this, I guess. Anything I cannot explain with reason, has a karmic origin.
We have a few last things to prepare for dinner. We will all be at my mothers’s house. The town is quite empty, or that’s the way I feel it, so full of nothing everywhere.
I have already bought all the presents and this makes me feel comfortable. I love giving, as much as I do love receiving.
The six of us will be eating together, me, my boyfriend, my mom, my brother, my sister-in-law, and my baby nephew.038e60b46b5411e39cea0e5d72f7055c_8
I like the idea of this, I’m prepared to spend a good time. I kind of feel happy about it. But I had a weird moment today, and I started screaming like a fool.
If I think about it, it happens on every Yule’s Eve.
I love this period of the year, so quiet, slow. A part for mass consumption, of course. That makes it a stressful one as well. But if you listen to the silence of nature you feel the smoothness of the air, so endearing.
I do seat, whenever I sense it, and listen. Only today I couldn’t do it, and I broke the silence with a long shout.
It must be Yule’s mood, so kind. I’ve never been a too kind person. I mean, I’m a good one, but not as soft as winter is, with its snow and dead nature everywhere. This is why I love it, because it calms me down.
There’s a long path right behind the town I live in. A path made of trees. The street is wrecked, with a lot of holes in it, and I usually prefer riding it with my bicicle.
When I get there I find a place to stop and rest, that’s all I need. Stop and rest. I even love observing the grass, the small flowers, but this period of the year is sleeping, and nature is not coloured. It’s between grey and green, darker and still.
So I go back home and feel like I’m born again. It’s like talking to my inside, feeling safe.
At home I see my boyfriend preparing dishes for the night. He’s very good at cooking, I believe he has a natural talent. He cooks through his senses, using all his imagination. What comes out is always different, this is why he doesn’t read any recipe.
My mother, who lives nearby, is particularly careful to perfection. Everything must be flawless in her house. It must be exhausting, I tell myself.
I am one of those people whom, for most part of their lives, have been messy. Lately I’m changing a little but I know I’ll never become a maniac of perfection. Besides, me and my boyfirend have a cat living with us, a witch cat. Her name is Morgana. She could stare at us for hours, just moving her neck every now and then, to follow something completely invisible with her farseeing eyes. She’s amazing, I’m sure she knows more than all of us together.
The rest of -part- of my family will come over tonight, my brother, my sister-in-law and their son. My nephew. He is mostly like my cat, he sees things. At least, this is what it seems to me when I look into his eyes, so bright. He has a kind of light around his small body, an energy that reaches all of us together. If I ever come to see him when I’m pissed off or nervous, I suddenly feel relaxed, like if I knew that everything is going to be fine. His positive energy is releasing, makes everyone feel good.
His dad and mom are so grateful for him to be here, and we all are.
All these thoughts came out to scream, so this is why I did it. Because shouting is like talking silently, and I needed to whisper this short story of mine.
We all have some stories to tell. We can call them whatever we want, but I guess they are just needs of our souls to make their point on things.
The rest of my family is scattered around, and this short story shout is dedicated to all of them too.

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