Dream or Memory? by Cyndi Woods

Dream or memory?

By Cyndi Woods

   I remember something that happened a long time ago. I was walking through the woods on a cold winter’s evening. The air was crisp and held the promise of snow. I came upon a house that seemed to just appear. I stopped short as I really didn’t expect to see someone’s home in the middle of the woods. I observed the yard and exterior of the house. The grass was a little long but not over-grown. The roof had a few of the dark brown shingles that needed repairing but it wasn’t in need of a replacement. The windows were clean and looked as though they belonged on a cottage. They had white vinyl strips on them giving the illusion of six separate squares of glass in each window. The front of this house revealed three of these windows, each with lace curtains peeking out from the sides. The front door was a striking red against the taupey color of the siding. The door also held a lush fresh balsam wreath with a plaid ribbon and nothing else. To the right of the door was presumably the living room window and displayed a fairly large lighted angel. There was a brick path way inviting guests to approach the front door and lift the wrought iron door knocker that was shaped like a horse shoe, snuggly situated in the center of the wreath.

   I stood there taking in the scene as if I were painting it on canvas and didn’t want to miss a single detail. I looked around to see if there was the glow of other windows in more homes that I just didn’t notice before. This was the only home I could see on this little dirt path that ran through these woods. Focusing back on this quaint home, I saw a soft light illuminate one of the windows to the left of the door. Then within minutes it went out again. I looked up to the roof again and noticed the trail of smoke coming from the chimney and sniffed the air. There it was… the smell of a log fire burning. Just then the snow that had been imminent began to fall slowly and softly to the ground. I pulled my hat down a bit more and secured my gloves a little tighter. I began to turn away from this picture-perfect scene to head back home, but couldn’t make myself leave. It beckoned me to stay. It beckoned me to approach the door and knock. Could the inside of this home be as charming and lovely a scene as the outside? Moving my steps forward, I looked behind me on the ground. My boots were leaving the first tracks in the dusting of powdery snow that was collecting on the ground.

   It was a restlessness that sent me on this walk. A restlessness that I wanted to be calmed. This seemed, somehow the place to find that contentment my sole needed. I walked that brick path that had invited me when I came upon the house. I reached the stoop and raised the horseshoe…clack, clack, clack. I folded my arms about me and quickly tried to find words to explain why I was coming to this home that I didn’t know. Just then the door opened.

   A woman of about seventy or so answered my knocking. She wore a cozy looking gray sweater and a pair of black wool slacks. Her hair was a salt and pepper blend of colors that was in a short flattering style for her face. Her gray/blue eyes were glistening with joy at the sight of a visitor. The slight lines around her mouth deepened as she showed pearly white teeth in a broad smile that reached all the way to her eyes. A glint of gold sparkled on her sweater just at her left shoulder and I saw the antiqued looking pin attached there.

   “Well hello!” she beamed at me. “I’ve been expecting you.” She declared to my complete surprise. “Um, you’ve been expecting me?” I stumbled. “I have never been here before. I didn’t know this house was even here.” I explained. “Well come in, come in out of the cold.” She cooed. I was all too eager to enter this haven of sorts. It looked warm and inviting. I longed to take in the scene from the inside. I stepped in and removed my hat. “I was just taking a walk through the woods and came upon your lovely home.” I began. She interrupted, “Let me get you some cocoa while you sit by the fire here and warm yourself.” She said bustling about to take my coat and gloves. She hung them on a hook by the door along with my hat. I stood there a little unsure of what to do or why I was even here. “Come in dear, come by the fire. I have a chair ready for you.” She waved me over to the fireplace as she disappeared into the other room. I removed my wet boots and walked across the wood floor that was covered with a beautiful oatmeal colored rug. I sat in one of the two rocking chairs she had by the fire. She was gone only a brief moment and then returned carrying two mugs that were trailing steam from each of them. She handed me one of them and sat in the other rocker next to me clutching her own mug of warmth. I watched her settle herself and take a testing sip from her mug. She drew back a little and began blowing the steam away. “I hope you like cocoa.” She asked looking at me and smiling. I looked down at my mug almost forgetting I was holding it. “Yes, thank you very much.” I began blowing on my own cocoa. Looking up at her again I said, “What did you mean that You’d been expecting me? How did you know that I would be here?”

   “Well you see dear, I have received a visitor on this day every year for the last twenty years.” She began. I looked at her in confusion. “The week before Christmas, I have had someone come to my door looking for a little Christmas cheer.” She said matter-of-factly. I realized with that statement that I was indeed looking for just that. I was feeling empty of joy. I needed cheer. “I had my first visitor as I said twenty years ago, after my husband passed away.” She shared. “I was so lonesome and wanted to still share some Christmas cheer with someone. My husband and I loved to open our home to strangers that needed some joy at this time of year.” She said while looking into the glow of the fire.

   I never took my eyes off of her face as she told me of soldiers, wanderers, travelers, and alike who graced this very chair by the fire with this precious soul and her husband. “The first year my husband was no longer with me, I didn’t think I could bear the visits without him.” She admitted with a little sigh. “As the week before Christmas approached, I had not yet had a visit from anyone. Then just while I was feeling that the grief would consume me, exactly one week before Christmas, the knock came on my door.” She smiled remembering that night. “Who was it?” I asked forgetting myself. She looked over at me “A young woman who had an argument with her new husband and needed to take a walk.” She said. “We sat here in front of the fire, sipping my homemade cocoa, just like this. I told her of my early married years. She left here with a renewed determination for her new husband.” She told me with a shy grin as she brought the mug to her lips again.

   She told me of the myriad of people who graced the flames of this hearth and the warmth of this home. ”For some reason the visitors always come one week to the day before Christmas. I wait for them with prepared cocoa and a roaring fire, I wait for the knock and invite them in.” she said simply, as if this was nothing more than an old family tradition. She looked at me again and said “And you? What brings you here tonight?” she asked curiously. “I’m… not really sure.” I said slowly. “I guess I’ve just felt a bit restless and wanted a walk.” “I see,” she said turning back to the fire. It was then I noticed the softly playing Christmas music somewhere in the other room. “That’s lovely music playing, I love Christmas music.” I said taking another sip of the remarkable cocoa. “Yes, I do too.” She replied. We then sat in silence listening to the music and the crackling of the fire for quite some time. “It’s so peaceful to sit and watch the fire and the snow falling outside.” She observed, breaking the silence. I turned to the window and saw that the ground was completely covered now with a perfectly untouched blanket of snow. “So, do you have a family waiting for you at home right now?” she asked, returning to a conversation. “Yes.” I told her. “I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the preparations for the holidays and wanted something quieter.” I confessed not really understanding what that might look like. She turned thoughtful and gazed back at the flames still waving in the fireplace.

   “Would you mind giving me a hand with something?” she asked a little unexpectedly. I turned my eyes to her with just a touch of suspicion. “I just can’t seem to do this thing myself anymore.” She cajoled. “Sure, what do you need me to do?” I asked. She stood with a little more effort than I did and led me through her kitchen to a back door. Pulling it open she revealed a wooded back yard. “Do you see that tree right on the edge of the woods?” I followed her gaze and spotted the one she was pointing to. “Yes I see it.” “I know it’s a rather peculiar request from a stranger, but would you mind cutting it down for me to use as my Christmas tree?” she asked with a pleading in her tone. “There is a chainsaw just inside the shed right out back here.” After thinking for a moment that this definitely was not what I had in mind when I went for a walk earlier, I decided that maybe this was exactly what I needed. To cut down a Christmas tree like I used to do as a kid. Glancing at her and then back at the tree that seemed to be waiting to come in out of the cold, I answered with a cheerful “I’d be happy too.” Turning around, I went back to the living room and retrieved my coat, boots, hat and gloves. I went out to the shed and quickly found the chainsaw. Bringing it outside, I only had to pull once and it growled to life. It seemed a shame to pierce this stillness with such a sound but I went to work cutting down the tree. It only took a few moments and the tree was on its side. Placing the saw back in the shed, I went over and grasped the trunk of the tree firmly and began dragging it to the house. When I returned with the promised evergreen, my new friend had pulled out her ornaments and garlands and declared “Now it’s time to trim the tree.” After ridding the tree of loose needles and snow, I placed it snuggly in the stand right next to the fireplace. The older woman clapped her hands together and said “Oh it’s such a lovely tree.”

   She began picking treasured ornaments up out of a box and unwrapping them. After I strung the lights she handed me, it was time for the stories about the bobbles she placed on the branches. She told of an angel that had been her grandmothers and a little train that was her son’s very first ornament. She remembered every story from every one that she lovingly hung from the limbs. She completed the task by handing me a delicate star to place atop the tree. As I stood on a stool she had brought in, I gingerly secured the star. We stood back and admired our handy-work. “I really can’t believe I just helped a total stranger put up their Christmas tree.” I said chuckling a little. “Seems to me it gave you some of that joy you set out to find tonight.” She replied. “Sometimes returning to the simpler joys of this life is just what we need to restore our soul.” I looked at her and then back at the tree. “Yes. That’s it. I needed to return to a simpler time of Christmas.” I realized. “Creating memories and traditions with your family is what will bring you joy in years to come.” She remarked. “Don’t let the rush of the season rob you of the glorious memories of finding your Christmas tree together or enjoying that cup of cocoa by the fire.” She said placing a hand on my arm. I looked into her eyes for a long moment and could see all of her memories playing out in the joy that shined there. “Thank you for letting me be a part of your memories tonight.” I said genuinely happy now. “I’m going to go home and find my Christmas tree with my family and create those memories.” I told her with a smile on my face. She smiled back and said “I’m so glad you’ve come tonight.” She whispered. “So am I.” I said.

   Though I hated to leave this place that restored my joy and gave me a memory to hold forever, it was time to journey home. “Do you have family here to spend Christmas with?” I asked her. I couldn’t bear the thought of this precious woman spending Christmas alone. “Oh, don’t worry about me dear, I am content with my visitors.” She said while helping me on with my coat. “My gift each year is in opening that door and welcoming in a weary traveler or worn out soul in need of Christmas blessings.” “I am so glad I came tonight and sat at your fireplace,” I told her, opening the front door. “The pleasure is mine… truly it is.” She said with a smile and a pat on my shoulder.

   I went off into the night down the same path that brought me to this home of restoration. Giving one more glance at its postcard scenery, I took a snap shot in my mind so I would always remember it. My Christmas companion was waving to me one last time from the doorway. I waved back and the door closed. I walked toward home and thought of the new tradition I was going to start with my family of cutting down our Christmas tree exactly one week before Christmas. I picked up my pace and felt the Christmas joy I thought I had lost.