All is still. Girls asleep in their room, Son and Dog snoozing in boys room. Adored Husband still sleeping. Think I’ll turn the Christmas lights on and clean house. Shall I start from front door and make my way round to the kitchen, or start with the kitchen, get some things brewing, baking, then make my way to the front door? Leave shiny floor in my wake? Or shall I start up the stairs with our bedroom, all piled high with too many loads of clean clothes needing home sweet drawer and closet? What about the windows. Shall I try to wash windows in the dark? The oven, the fridge and microwave? The tile grout, the bathroom deep clean? The walls…shall I whitewash wall messes? Shall I take all shoes with signs of winter mud underneath and beat the sordid clumps, beat souls together out the door, strong and loud. Shall I rush about yanking sheets off beds, pile high for more work and still more, panicked I can’t make the house the beauty I want forever for to be? No. I’ll not go there. They sleep in sheets, the ones I love. Asleep in happy dreams and together. I shall light candles here and there. Slow and nice I move. Move past candles through the happy dance of beauty making.