Joseph has just gotten back from a long walk down the road to fetch the mail. He pauses on the lawn for a moment and opens several envelopes containing cheerful holiday greetings, from friends and family near and far. Some are written in German, his native language, and he has to smile when reading the personal messages and thinks his wife Elizabeth will be pleased with them too. She has a hot pot of coffee, with a little chicory, waiting for him on the wood stove, he knows this because she had just started making it before he left. It is gently snowing and in the waning light of the day he takes a deep breath and allows his mind to wander. He thinks of the many trials and tribulations that have brought him to this moment. Raising a baker’s dozen of children at the farm next door, watching them grow up and move on, gave him a feeling of satisfaction. He remembers the years of tilling the land to put food on the table, and of his dream of a little cottage in the woods. For twenty years Joseph collected rocks and boulders from the fields as he went about his work. He told his children of the little house he planned to build for his retirement years, and a few were doubtful as the years went by. When Joseph was sixty five years old he built his solid little cottage, practically single-handedly, with all of the rocks that he had collected. He even had enough to build three other smaller structures on the property. And now here he is enjoying this moment that he has earned. He finally trots up to the stone house, sinking his feet into the freshly fallen snow. He and Elizabeth share a chuckle together over coffee and Christmas cards by the warm glow of the old pot belly stove. At the end of the season Joseph would tuck away the cards for safe keeping as he did every year. He had no way of knowing that fifty years later his youngest grandchild, whom he would not live to meet, would discover the hidden box of Christmas cards.
Merry Christmas Grand-Pa.
Love, your youngest grandchild, Heidi
This is the little house my grandfather built, and he is holding one of the cards that I found in a crawlspace there.
(This is a re-post from one year ago…today.)
Heidi, you’ve warmed my heart again. I’m so glad I drove down that beautiful road and poked around the property – it makes your post even more real to life to me. Happy holidays! Peggy
Heya Heidi
Yes it’s a lovely post, once again it sent chills own my arms, its scaryily poignant, life is full of tragedy, marked by little moments of happiness.
They are the ones we need to hold on to.
A Very Merry Christmas my friend to yourself an your family.
Hugs from here
That sure is a lovely scene, and a lovely story. I wish I was there (we’re not going to have a white Christmas this year–of course we usually don’t but there’s always hoping).
Thank you for the comments on my blog!
Thank you Heidi, Merry Christmas to you too. He is such a ball of fire. I like the new look of your blog
What a lovely post. I love finding treasures like that; it gives you an amazing feeling of connection.
Oh, my! What a lovely story!! A sweet tear-jerker, my favorite kind! Merry Christmas to you and your family, Heidi!
How absolutely AWESOME is this, Heidi! What a joyous thing to pass down from generation to generation..I love it! Wishing you a most wonderful Christmas and happy new year ahead..it’s been a joy getting to know you!
Such a lovely post! I hope you had a wonderful holiday!
Thank-you friends! I wish you all many holiday blessings and happiness for the new year!
awesome snow man – love the pipe – he’s smoking down that hill!