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My eyes drooped, heavy from the day’s adventures. My body was warm and secure in a loved one’s lap, the sounds of my uncle’s guitars and grandfather’s harmonica blending with the low rattle of the Norwegian voices of relatives surrounding me. As I fought the sleep that would inevitably overcome me, I looked over to my brother, similarly held, but whose eyes instead of closing like mine, seemed to light and dance with a song of their own, making him come alive even at our youngest ages.
Twenty-five years later, I’m now the lap that holds the babies. My son and daughter are caught in the web of sleep and wakefulness in their seats at Lawrence Chapel, the same sounds of music filling their dream spaces — only, this time, it’s my brother, Cory Chisel, up on the stage.
Lovely to read this from Cory’s sister. Looks like the most beautiful festival around. Hope to make it over there from Scotland some year soon…