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December 23, 1814
My son was born today, two days shy of being a Christmas baby. His mother is weak from her delivery, but they’re both safe, and their hearts beat beautifully. Aileen needs her rest, but I know she’ll recover soon. Until she does, I’ll be by her side, and so will our friends. Our families are healthy, but we all know this can’t last. Aodh and Eabha can’t house us forever. The walls are closing in. We all need our own space, and our travels aren’t over. I can feel it in my bones. We still have a long way to go, but we’ll all feel it when we find our forever home.
Until next time,
Séamus O’Reilly
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