A Winter Ritual

I place a cup on stone.

I honor the lines of my parents, of Eaton and Riddle.

I pour water into a cup.

I honor the lines of my grandparents, of Eaton and Ruston, of Riddle and Art.

I pour water into a cup.

I honor the lines of my great-grandparents, of Eaton and Smith, of Ruston and Wicker, of Riddle and Durant, of Art and Burke.

I pour water into a cup.

I honor the lines of my two-times great-grandparents, of Eaton and Tenney, of Smith and Dutcher, of Ruston and Ireland, of Wicker and Whitcher, of Riddle and Gillett, of Durant and Burnah, of Art and Pils, of Burke and Conners.

I pour water into a cup.

I honor the lines of my three-times great-grandparents, of Eaton and Treadwell, of Tenney and Targee, of Smith and Sears, of Dutcher and Bird, of Ruston and Richardson, of Ireland and Lenton, of Wicker and Lusk, of Whitcher and De Lozier, of Riddle and Clickner, of Gillett and Berry, of Durant and Lavalley, of Burnah and (possibly) Fortin, of Art and Blume, of Pils and Burzee, of Burke, of Conners and Dowd.

I light a candle and watch the flame flicker to life. I call to my ancestors. I ask them to watch over me as I heal. I ask them to watch over my dreams as I sleep.

I pour water onto the earth, emptying the cup in offering.

May it be so.