The Fireplace

• Amber Cook, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2018

Getting there was always the slow part. Dreaded early morning wake ups; never ending flights followed by a torturous two-hour drive filled with constant bickering with my siblings. I feel like a volcano, my brain bubbling, my heart pounding and my neck aching. It’s not the place I detest – it’s the journey; the people in it. It’s as if they are on a mission to see who can aggravate me the most, and believe it or not, I can’t separate their efforts, they are all winners in the annoying me department.
The road is endless, I feel every little bump. The clouds look fluffy and white, making me think of our early morning flight and how our journey started amongst them.
The car crunches to a stop in the circular gravel driveway. I feel drained and lifeless. The freezing cold wind is sending shivers down my spine. Dad is singlehandedly unloading the heavy suitcases and taking them into the house, mainly because everyone else emphatically complains that they can’t possibly function in this temperature.
Then I see a flickering at the window. The fireplace. Mum and my sister race inside to the fire, my brother and I head straight to the kitchen and hunt down the hot chocolate and the woollen blankets that smell just like my passed grandma’s perfume. Then we see Pop. He is all wobbly on his feet, so we run over to him, and he greets us with a cheeky smile, a welcoming hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek.
Sitting by the fireplace sipping our hot chocolates, our hearts begin to thaw and the icicles clouding our minds slowly start to drip away. Pop sits in his old chair that is covered in spilt tea and crocheted rugs my Grandma made. Pop loves chatting, and it is obvious he is excited to have visitors because his words tumble over each other as he exclaims how big we all are. Pop is just like the crackle of the fireplace, the flames dance in his glasses and we are drawn to him as he animatedly tells us stories.
Saying goodbye is the worst part. Chills resonate down my spine from the combination of sadness and the bitter breeze blowing my hair away from my face. I run to seek out Pop’s warming goodbye hug, however this goodbye hug fails to reassure me and make me feel better. My eyes brim over with tears as I cling tight to my Pop, who knows when Pop’s fire will burn out.