Decorating is much easier without needing the ladder to hang things up. It's much faster too. I'm not sure why this world's version of New Year's is celebrated for a tenday, but perhaps the desire for a pre-winter party is built into the human condition, or the cycle of life, or even just the time when you needed to use up some livestock and make food stores so you wouldn't have to feed them on hoarded grains and hay.

I discovered another use for telekinesis when the dusty boxes came down from the attic. I managed to make my very own telekinetic dust filter. I imagined a fine cloth "net" tightly woven, and managed to sieve the dust from the air by racing it around the room. Good practice, and far less sneezing, a double win. When he saw me doing it, my dad picked up on that trick very quickly, without me even mentioning how I'd done it. Clearly, this means that motivation is at least part of learning to use the skills. He'd been doing well with the other stuff, but he hated breathing dust, and it showed in how rapidly the air cleared with both of us working it. I cleared off the boxes with the "cloth" as well, then I got lost in thought. About life, the universe, and everything. I didn't come to any great conclusions about those, but that didn't really matter. It was time for a tenday of celebration and remembrance of what the last year has brought, along with the ceremonies of hope for the coming year. There are garlands to be hung, mostly of colored fabrics and knotted scraps, the colors for hope in the coming year, the knotted scraps to acknowledge that that past was behind and cannot be unwoven from the form it is in. Interesting symbolism, but really not something that many will care about, so suffice it to say that it was good practice, and the coming tenday would hold time for family, friends, food, fellowship and frivolity.

There would be some heavier times where we are to acknowledge the past and face the mistakes we've made, but I'd already handled much of that after I got downsized and came home. In retrospect, that was the best thing that could have happened to me. It shook me from my complacent modus operandi and made me actually wake up and face what was going on. I'm still vulnerable to falling back on the self-centered or problem-centered mindset, where I let myself become so focused on something that I ignore all the other aspects of life. I can't even blame my dad's broadsheet habit as starting this, it's how I've always been. Habit combined with hurt made for running to my own little world, stuffing all the parts that might get hurt into a hiding place, and running along on the less vulnerable parts. A psychological tortoise, that's me.

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Anyhoo, this was the time to reflect on those things, and I'd done that, so I moved on to what I could do based on those lessons. Some of that was this quiet time with family, where the conversations were just ways of saying "I love you" without using those exact words.

"Hey, let me help you with the boxes from the attic."

"Do you think we need more garland?"

"That looks great, hun."

"Oh, I was thinking I might make the citrus baked fish today."

"Hand me the hammer, would you?"

All boiled down to the same refrain: "You are home. You are loved. I'm glad you're here."

And that refrain was a soothing balm against the weights and cares of the coming year, a shield facing the pending problems, and a bulwark against future failures. I've seen other families fail to function in this way. I've been a part of that failure sometimes when I allowed my fears and frustrations to vent on those least deserving of the blow. But even with the bad times, I've been fortunate three times now, twice by birth, once by choice. Of course, I'm not sure that those around me can count it as fortunate all three times, but them's the breaks.

The garland was hung almost as fast as it could get pulled from the boxes. The citrus baked fish was delicious. And the warmth of family harmony was sweet. It was a perfect moment, and like any perfect moment, it could be had and treasured, but not preserved except in memory. Man, Mr. Spock somehow really connected with something, and judging by those words, knew how to live life well, that ludicrous hobbit song notwithstanding. I needed to store up more of these things that were indestructible. I needed to continue to recall that life was more than survival and living was more than just making it through each moment.

As we shared our table and reminisced about the past year, I felt a peace settle over us, even though it wouldn't likely survive the coming disruption of all that was planned for after Yearturn, it was here now, and that was good. That was more than enough for now.