The hall was filled with people sitting all in a circle, their bodies slumped with exhaustion and bent with the need to sleep; yet seeming driven forwards by some hidden energy, some manic knowledge of the things to come. This energy threw off the heavy cloak of sleep, and these people, these young ones with all this soul, seemed to take this energy and feed off of it so that it passed through the room like a blazing fury. 

This energy seized the people and held them, so that when a select few spoke, these leaders, these preachers of tradition held all eyes, and their congregation held bated breath while they listened. No one thought to speak up, to disrupt this sacred ceremony, for this energy was older than any member who conjugated. This energy was brought back from many years, and it seemed to whisper I am here. I have been here before, and I will be here again. 

And for some, it was greeted like an old friend. They embraced it, fed off of it, and added their thoughts and memories as a tithe to all those who have been, and all those to come. Then, these veterans of countless hours took this energy and fed it to the newcomers. They seemed to say take this. Enjoy this. Embrace this, for one day soon, we will be gone, and you will take our place. That's how the cycle goes. Around and around, this tradition of memories and energy. 

Then come the tags. The small pieces of metal, harmless enough in appearance. But instead, these small, insignificant relics hold the weight of thousands of memories. Of hours spent to perfect a craft as old as time itself. These small metal pieces held more power than one could even imagine, and yet, they weigh almost nothing at all. Each tag held a deeper meaning than the simple words inscribed on them. They all had deeper signifigance, and every time they were touched, memories and acceptance came from them. 

And touched they were. These tags were grabbed, held, brushed up against, and clutched throughout the whole year. When someone needed a pick-me-up or reminder of who they belonged to and where they came from, they felt these tags. Even though they were small and insignificant, they were arguably one of the most important pieces of equipment they owned. 

After this ceremony was concluded, the energy faded. It faded back into the walls, back into the souls of the old and the new. It seemed to whisper as it left, seemed to say I'll be back, I'll be back when you call on me again.

And with this energy gone, the strain of the day's events fell upon this group. They rose unsteadily to their feet and stumbled back to their warm beds, talking quietly among themselves. Mostly, though, they simply reflected on the proceedings that had transpired that day, and eagerly awaited the arrival of the next day. 

But not for long. Soon, these same people, who were weary a short while ago, rose with a spring in their step and a gleam in their eye. Something different, however, was the feeling of apprehension in the air. It seemed to dance around everyone, not quite strong enough to grasp, to acknowledge, but present all the same. It filtered through the air from one person to the next, whispering into ears and causing that slight shiver of excitement and nerves that is known all too well. 

After a morning filled with fun and games, of conversations with old friends and the tentative building of new ones, the time came. Everyone gathered together, standing in a circle on a small field at the base of a mountain. For a while, nobody spoke, and they all waited with bated breath as the apprehension and excitement grew.

And finally, that building tension was cut, and the Man began to speak. Who was this person? Not old. Certainly not. He carried not the well-established energy that was so known to the other members, but a mix of both mature and new. He was the one in charge, the one who was loved. Oh sure, there were many leaders in this group, many of those who held respect and admiration. But this man? This man held love. When he spoke, all eyes turned to him, and all ears perked up. For everyone wanted to hear what this man had to say, and what would come from this mix of energy. 

And he did not disappoint. When he spoke, it seemed like he could say no wrong. Everyone listened with rapt attention as he wove this energy through the air with his words, and everyone, from the aged, who were scarred from years of change and instability, to the new and impressionable, their souls still fresh and eager. These people listened and felt the energy coming off of him. 

He spoke truly powerful words. Words of forgiveness, acceptance, and preparation. When it happened, everyone felt it. The air changed, almost like this man had taken the very frequency of the world, and adjusted it by just a hair. 

However, this was not his finale, his final, triumphant moment. No, that was when he called down the energy from the very hills behind him so that it swirled down to the people below it, and everyone there felt its embrace. This was the moment when tears flowed, and hearts were opened to those around them. This was the moment when everyone came to recognize each other for what they truly were. Family.