The Heart of the Home

Today was pretty much a perfect day. Right now, the fading sunlight is coming-in through the blinds with that golden glow -- what my brother-in-law called "the light." I always think of him when this happens and that's somewhat often here in central Virginia as a perfect autumn day begins to wind-down. Today, the temperature didn't get above 55. The sky was deep blue with only a scant cloud. It was windy. I spent a bit of time with two dear friends and ate some good food. I even went for a long walk. It was a nearly perfect day. I think it's almost time to light the fire.

I lit my first fire last night. This is always an important day! It has to be cold enough to draft and I need a reason to spend time in the cozy back room of my home -- where the kitchen is -- to keep my eye on it. It's a great place to sit and visit or sit and read -- or sit and knit, especially when young girlies assemble -- all chatty and excited about creating something. I usually light candles, too, so it's really cozy. I love a fire. I love my hearth -- the heart of my home.

We have had a fireplace in every house we've lived. When we moved into this house, there was an alcove where a gas stove might reside -- but no fireplace. It troubled us! We slid our entertainment center back into that alcove for the first few years we lived here. Then we finished the garage into a family room -- so were finally free to build the requisite fireplace! When we lit our first fire in this house, we breathed a huge sigh of contentment. It finally felt like a real home.

David was a good firemeister. Though his favorite place to sit and read after a long day was in the new family room, during the cold months, he usually remained here in the back of the house. We never did figure out what to call this room. In reality, it's the kitchen -- but it was actually the family room, too -- I thought, maybe, parlor -- but that's just too stuffy for us. The reading room? Maybe ... the fire room? That doesn't flow off the tongue easily. It remains, simply, and non-poetically, the back room. Nonetheless ... the firemeister was as crucial to Bailey life as the dishes-doer. This back room gets very cold overnight from November through March. It's not easy to abandon those warm covers to descend to the dark, coldness of a midwinter kitchen to prepare breakfasts and lunches for schoolgoers. It's much more easily accomplished when you know that there is a roaring fire just waiting to welcome you into the day, announced with a delivered cup of good, strong coffee. The firemeister provided both of these delights. I miss those mornings.

So I just lit the fire. I'm pausing to glance over to see if the one match was sufficient. That's very important, don't you know -- a one match fire. Alas, it is burning well. David would be pleased. Heck, I am pleased. I have plenty of wood brought up to the back door from my hurricane preparations, so that will hold me for a while. I have some reading to do, so I'll just hang out in this room tonight. My feet are already getting hot. I may have to remove these handknit socks of mine.

I need to buy some more wooden kitchen matches. I have one box of the strike-anywhere matches left, but don't want to squander them. They were hard to find! and, it seems, that Ohio Blue Tips are no longer made. A few Christmases ago, I got David some neat stuff to go along with our new fireplace. I got him a really handy leather wood carrier that settles perfectly into the hoop log holder that we have. I also got him a cast iron match holder into which you slide a whole box of kitchen (or strike anywhere) matches and they are dispensed out the bottom. It's really cool -- and is the same functional design as the old cat match box that my mother brought from her family home which held residence above our old gas stove in that New Hampshire kitchen. Sadly, we never managed to get the proper mortar drill bits to mount this new one onto the bricks under the mantle. I need to do that sometime! Of course, we also have a popcorn popper and a flue pull -- all in wrought or cast iron. But now it's just me using these things. I just felt a little sad in this moment. Thankfully, I'm handy with a fire.

I just got up to stir my stew. The kitchen smells wonderful -- a heady blend of fire and savory broth. It's nearly intoxicating. However, tonight, the heart of my home is rather quiet -- just me and the RBD (really bad dog). The cold winds outside my door promise coming activity here, though -- the homecoming of my kids for Thanksgiving. I am starting to count the days. For is a home really a home with just one? I just don't know.

A friend told me about someone she knew -- a woman who had been widowed -- but who had found love again. That alone is unremarkable -- but there's more. The wonderful man who now loves her had the diamond from her first engagement ring made into a new ring that symbolized this new loving commitment for each other that embraced the love she would always have for her first husband. Read that again. It's a beautiful thing. I look around my home and see countless pictures of David -- with me, with the kids, by himself -- and so many things that were his -- or were ours together. I can't imagine just getting rid of them because of a new relationship. This makes deep sense to me. I don't think I will ever be able to empty my heart, my soul or my home of David. Any man would expect me to do so would surely be a man who neither knows me nor loves me well. That sounds rather unyielding, but I think it's very true. If a dead man can scare a guy off, that's no guy for me. Most importantly, David is part of the heart of our home -- he's a part of my children and he's a part of me. For me to remove him from my heart would injure my children -- and myself. Our home would no longer be whole.

I pieced a quilt top a long time ago -- but never finished the quilt. I will one day, I hope -- because it's really quite special. One of the center blocks is called "Log Cabin." It has a hearth -- the center block -- which is usually some hue of red because it symbolizes the heart around which the cabin is constructed. Of course in these modern times where we don't rely on our hearths for our very subsistence, it becomes more symbolic. But in this home, we do gather around the hearth as it is in our kitchen. Though we could get a bigger Christmas tree if we put it in the front window, every year its place remains by the hearth because that's where we want to be. It is where all of our hearts come together. I love that.

Oooohhh -- I'm seeing purple and green flames now. I tossed in a couple of those color-changing pinecones, also an old Christmas present. Now my fire is flashy as well as hot. And my stew is ready. I'm out of wine, sadly ... so I'll have to settle for milk. But that's okay. It will go better with the experimental cookie I'm going to nibble for dessert. Then I'll move closer to the hearth to settle-in for a nice, warm read.