Mary felt a tingle of happiness go up her spine. Here she was, off and married—not a little kid anymore—but she could remember the first time she saw her father build a fire in that very fireplace like it was yesterday.
§
The pudgy-cheeked three-year-old complied, slowly picking up the purposely-small-cut piece of firewood and carefully placing it in her father’s larger-than-life hands. Once it had reached its destination and Ted had struck the match, little Mary squealed with delight, clapping her hands and proclaiming, “Yay, Daddy! Good job!”
Moments later, a fire had roared to life, and Mary stood mesmerized for the longest time, gazing into its center as if under the spell of a flaming enchantment and feeling its warmth as her daddy sat on the floor, held her on his lap, and whispered to her the wonders of fire—its dangers and its beauty.
§
Mary could feel the warmth of it even now, eighteen years later. She smiled and instinctively moved closer to the fireplace as her father worked his magic.
The crackling of the newly-lit blaze was like a homing beacon, beckoning everyone to draw close to it. Each family member would comment in turn about how good it felt, how they just loved a good fire, how they couldn’t remember the last time they sat by a fireplace—but Mary just sat and took it all in, joyfully savoring the closeness of her family and the cozy trance brought on by the glowing fireside heat.
Jon and Paula sat on the edge of the hearth, while Parker came to sit on the floor next to Mary. Daisy planted herself next to Mary, pausing from her knitting to take in the ineludible charm of the fire. Ted stood back and admired his handiwork. Margaret came and took her husband’s hand. “Beautiful job, honey.”
“Why thank you, dear. I’ve had just a bit of experience.”
“Dad, do you remember the first time I helped you build a fire?” Mary inquired, knowing that he most certainly did remember, for it was a memory that had been brought up many times over the years. She did so now because she loved hearing the way her father told it. It brought back such fond memories and always seemed to open the door to the sharing of similar sentiments—a way of bringing the family together.
If there was one thing that was important to Mary, it was family. Especially after all she’d been through. Now she had Parker to count on and be blessed by as well, she thought, gazing at him. And he loved her indescribably. So much to be thankful for.
Ted began the treasured story. “You were just a little tyke, no taller than the doorknob. You were always fascinated and watched me closely every time I built a fire. So I got it in my head that I should teach you how to help me—so that you could have an even greater appreciation of it. The night before, I’d gone out to my shop and cut some of the wood into smaller pieces, just the right size for Mary,” he went on, now addressing the whole audience. “I’ll never forget the look on her face when she handed it to me—so proud to be helping her daddy—and the giggle she let out when I put that piece into the fireplace and lit the whole pile was just priceless. From that moment on, I knew Mary would be a helper.”
“And an encourager,” Margaret was quick to add. “Remember how she praised you?”
“Oh, yeah,” laughed Ted, recalling the moment. “She said ‘Yay, Daddy, good job!” and clapped her hands.
“It’s true, she really is an encourager,” Parker chimed in, always one to take an opportunity to praise his wife.
Paula looked to Jon for a bit of kindred praise. “I’m an encourager, aren’t I, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, you encourage me to do what you want.” Parker and Daisy both chuckled, but Mary silently wondered if Paula’s feelings might be hurt by Jon’s somewhat truthful joke.
“Don’t you know it?” Paula replied, pinching her husband’s cheek and then kissing him. Even if Paula was a little high maintenance, they made each other happy and could take personal jokes better than most couples.
“I remember when you used to cut small pieces of wood for me,” Jon offered, trying to get back into the spirit of things. “Except I was never as excited about it as Mary was. My big excitement was getting the Christmas tree.” An interested hmm came from Parker’s direction.
“You certainly were,” Margaret (who had pulled up an ottoman to sit on) affirmed. “I remember you putting on your boots—with three pairs of socks, in case it took a while to find the perfect tree—and getting all bundled up, hat and all. You’d announce, ‘I’m ready,’ and off we’d go to the Christmas tree farm.”
“How cute,” Paula cooed. She loved that her husband was such an early fan of her favorite holiday.
“What about me?” asked Daisy, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it recollected. “What did I get excited about?”
“Yarn!” everyone answered in unison, having heard the tale numerous times. Daisy laughed. Margaret took her cue from there. “Daisy was so creative. Well, she still is, of course. She picked up crocheting at an early age, and she was always making paper bag puppets with yarn hair. When she was seven, she made her first potholder—multi-colored, of course. Every time we went into a store that had yarn, she had to go and look at the colors. I usually let her pick one color that was on sale. I still have some Christmas ornaments she made from some of those purchases.”
Daisy smiled proudly. Knowing that her mom had paid so much attention and invested regularly in her interests made her feel loved and appreciated.
“I sure wish I’d had a special interest,” Parker divulged. “I did enjoy picking a Christmas tree, but I’m not sure I made quite the art of it that Jon here did,” he added, nodding toward his brother-in-law. I think it took me until I was an adult to realize that I really enjoyed something and could get excited about it. I guess it was numbers that really thrilled me, but no one ever said ‘Man, you’re really good with numbers,’ so I had to discover it on my own.”
“That’s too bad,” Paula sympathized, “but I’m glad you finally found what you love. I find that I love interior design—I mean, I’m changing things in our house all the time!” she laughed, and Jon nodded in eye-rolling agreement. “But I’ve been considering actually pursuing it as a career. I mean, it’s not too late—I just don’t want to let the opportunity pass me by.”
“Do I still get grandchildren in the design package?” was Margaret’s quick response, which was met by more laughter. Paula blushed but joined in the laughter.
It was nearing 9:30, and Ted began to yawn. “Past my bedtime. Gonna have to turn in,” he announced apologetically. “See you all in the morning.” Hugging his daughters and giving his wife a quick peck, Ted turned to head upstairs.
“I’ll be up in a bit, dear,” Margaret assured him. The night owl in her took some time to wind down.
“I’m feeling pretty tired myself,” Paula yawned, startling her husband.
“Really? I’m surprised you’re so tired this early.”
Usually Paula would stay up late visiting with her mother-in-law, but tonight she simply didn’t have the energy. Unusual, to be sure, but she was one to listen to her body—as a result, she was rarely ever sick or run-down. Jon followed her up the stairs, both of them bidding their goodnights.
Daisy, who was just finishing bootie number one, concurred. “Yeah, I mean, we’ve got a whole three days. I think I’ll get some sleep too.”
Mary gave Parker a look that said she wanted to stay by the fire just a bit longer.
After a bit of extra tidying in the kitchen and setting out plates for breakfast, Margaret made her exit, quietly saying goodnight and leaving the couple by the fire to cuddle and dream. She smiled as she remembered the days—how she and Ted had sat in front of that very fireplace and dreamed of a family and picture-perfect Christmases. Now it was their turn.
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