Different Slants

Teaching Jericho About Fire on Thanksgiving Day

by Robert M. Katzman  Thanksgiving Day, 2017

We’re walking on the beach collecting wood

Thanksgiving Day

Pieces of our family are gathering

First time without Grandma in his short life

And my long one

Her shadow follows us

He’s six and doing his best

I’m sixty-seven and want him to know

To know about wood and fire and so much more

I think about Time and that it’s flowing too quickly

I tell him the lake washes up driftwood

So dry it will catch fire in a wink

He looks for it like a robin focused on a worm

I tell him the white branches are best to collect

As we walk down the beach with a small wheelbarrow

Filling it with bits and pieces of kindling

I told him kindling meant small pieces of wood

Fire-starting sized wood

About the size of his fingers

Like kindergarten meant small kids

Jericho nodded he understood

I told him that small branches were like his wrist

Bigger branches were thicker like his thin white arms

He looks at his fingers, wrist and arm, taking inventory

He says little, tries hard to get it right

Grandpa told him he will burn

Whatever wood the boy finds

In a big fire tonight, with real logs and maybe hot chocolate

He’s six and this is serious motivation

It won’t be for long, and he won’t notice it passing

This is the year of first time everything

Without Grandma

As each of the holidays pass by

And her absence looms large

In my severed existence

But to our small grandchildren

Does she fade?

Will they remember her warm

Enveloping arms

Her scent

Her laugh

Her lap

Her love

Later, in the black night

We build our big fire, beginning with Jericho’s branches

I tell him that when he gathers the wood himself

 That it will warm him twice

Once from the work and once from the flames

He sits on his Mother’s lap

Watching the magic show as the flames climb

The sparks fly and the hungry fire begins

I tell him all his senses are there and involved

He can smell the smoke

See the flames

Hear the crackling

Feel the heat

And taste some ashes on his tongue

I watch him stick out his tongue and test that

I watch both of them cuddled together

I wish my girl were here

Sharing this beauty with us

One more time

Then I think, but she is here

She is part of our daughter

She is part of our grandson

They are both her and I accept that

Deciding to be happy is a decision

Will Jericho teach his own child about fire?

Will these Thanksgiving Day moments last?

The boy is six

I should limit my expectations

I wonder what to be thankful for

I decide to be thankful

For her

For him

And for now

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