Marny has a new baby, born in the depths of the
night two week ago. I am excited to cuddle the little bundle. It is a boy, a
strong baby boy that will grow into a man someday, a man just like father.
Father has grown old in his bones. That is what he says when he sits down at
the supper table long after Lily and I have been sent off to bed in the room
behind the hearth. He is a tall man with eyes that twinkle in the firelight and
hands rough as raw wood from the yoke and the plow.
There hasn’t been a baby in the family since Lily
was born, almost eight whole years ago. You wouldn’t know it by her carefully
chosen words, but Mother is delighted at the idea of a new baby in the family.
She has spent months knitting blankets from the softest yarns sold at the
general store. Whenever Marny and her husband, John, would come to the soddy,
Mother has been sure to give strict instructions on the care of infants. It isn’t
that Mother doesn’t think Marny will be a good mother, it’s the idea this is
Mother’s first grandchild. She is delighted.
Lily and I snuggle close in the bottom of the sleigh
as Father drives atop the snow drifts. Lily clutches her dolly that is swaddled
tightly in a blanket by Mother. My sister isn’t as happy about the new baby as
the rest of us. She worries Mother will love the baby more than her, but Mother
assures her that she will always be the baby of Mother’s life. That’s what she
said to me when Lily was born. She loves us both the same. I’m sure of it.
The steeple of the church comes into view as it
always does when we mount the rise just above the village. On Sunday mornings
the bell can be heard as far away as the soddy. I can hardly wait another week
when the bell will ring and we all stand together to sing Christmas hymns,
accompanied by the new organ that comes all the way from Minneapolis. My
favorite is God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman.
Marny was a teacher in the school house at the
edge of town, until she and John got married. Marny is a full grown woman now
and a wife. There is no time for teaching among her many obligations,
especially now that there is a baby in the house. Mother says that babies take
a lot of time and special care. The slightest draft can cause them to take with
the croup. Mother says that winter babies are the most difficult, because of
the cold. If babies are so much work, I don’t think that I want one. I don’t
think that I want to be married either. Father says I will change my mind when
I get a few years older. I don’t think so.
Smoke curls from the chimney of Marny and John’s white
wood frame house. John has built Marny a picket fence and dug a garden for her
in the backyard. In the summer there will be rose and lilac bushes. While she
waited for the baby to arrive, Marny made the yellow curtains that hang in the
windows. She says that yellow makes the room sunny and warm. I hope so. Despite
the piles of blankets, I am cold from the long sleigh ride.
Father tethers the horses to the hitching post
outside the house, and helps Mother from the sleigh. Lily and I scramble from
the blankets and stand next to Mother. Lily slips one hand into Mother’s while
she holds dolly tight to her chest with the other. John opens the door and
shakes Father’s hand as they exchange hearty hellos. Father likes John and
thinks he is a good man for Marny. He hasn’t always thought that, but he says
no man will be truly good enough for his daughters. I don’t think I will love
any man. I have my, Da.
The smell of brewed coffee wafts out into the
brisk air, mingled with the heavenly scent of fresh baked apple pie. Marny
makes the most delicious pies. Her house always smells of vanilla, sugar, and
cinnamon when we come to visit. John steps aside while he takes Mother’s muff
and wrap. Father hangs his hat on the rack beside the door as mother helps Lily
with the buttons of her coat. I am ten years old, I don’t need help anymore.
Mother says I am getting to be such a big girl and good helper too.
Marny sits in the wooden rocker next to the
hearth. The cradle John has made sways back and forth as she gently nudges the
rounded bottom with her foot. Mother stoops to hug Marny while Father and John
sit at the table to talk about current events over pie and coffee. Lily and I
creep towards the cradle for our first look at the baby. Marny pulls back the
soft blue blanket to reveal the chubby round face of her son, and cautions we
can look, but we mustn’t touch. I want to touch. Mother says it’s always best to
let sleeping babes lie, and gently pulls my hand away.
He squirms in the tightly bound swaddles of
blankets and opens his eyes. He makes a murmuring sound like Lily when she
wakes in the morning. His little bow lips part into a soft yawn. Mother reaches
into the cradle and takes the babe in her arms. Her eyes glisten as drops
of moisture slip down Mother’s cheeks. I have never seen Mother cry. I worry
she has become sad. Mother says it is because she is so happy. A lump builds in
my throat. I am happy too.
I sit on the floor by the warmth of the fire in
the hearth. I cross my legs as I sit straight and tall while Marny places the
baby in my lap. He is warm and soft. I am afraid. He wiggles in the knit
blanket and I hold him close. He smells of fresh linen and soap. His tiny
fingers wrap around my thumb and I giggle. I look into his little face as he
smiles up at me. He lets out a small cooing noise. I think I like babies. I
might want one when I am older.
The afternoon passes with warmth and laughter by
the hearth. I sit in the corner of the small kitchen and I think to myself,
these are the glad tidings of comfort and joy.
(c) All rights reserved. Donna R. Wood
