A Father's Love

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark.

That's when I saw a glow in the forest.

I stepped back from the window before Mama questioned what I was staring at. Before she was forbidden from looking outside, before she took away one of the few freedoms left by this merciless winter.

She normally wasn’t so strict and harsh, but Papa’s failure to return from his hunting trip two months ago had left our house in a state of tension, like twigs in a fire ready to pop once the heat reached them.

More than likely, he had simply miscalculated and was weathering the winter in a distant hunter’s cabin, but there was always the chance that something had gone wrong…

I risked another peek at the glow. It was golden, like the light coming from a traveler’s lantern. Could it be someone in the woods, watching our little cabin?

“What are you looking at?”

Mama’s voice was sharp, like the relentless clicking of her knitting needles.

“Nothing, Mama,” I said, knowing that wouldn’t be enough.

“’Nothing’ must be fascinating to watch,” she said. “Don’t you have chores to do?”

I had finished them all, but I said I needed to work on something in my room. Ducking inside, I found my sister on her small bed, reading a fairy tale for the fourth time since this miserable winter began.

“Did you see the light?” I asked her. She looked to her side, out our window, a faint smile on her lips.

“Yes,” she said. “I like him.”

“Him?”

“Yes,” she replied without explanation.

I sat down on her bed, and she scooted up her legs.

“What is he?”

“I don’t know, but I think he’s nice.”

“Nice people don’t just sit out in the woods watching houses, Marie.”

She giggled. “He’s not a person.”

A shiver ran down my spine. “Then what is he?”

“I don’t know,” she said, eyes growing distant. “But he feels…familiar. Like I’m safe with him around.” Her eyes focused on me. “You only saw him tonight?”

“Yes…you’ve seen him before?”

She nodded. “Do you think Mama can see him?”

The last thing I wanted to tell Mama was that there might be a spirit of some sort lingering near our house. “I don’t know, but let’s keep this between us for right now, okay?”

Marie nodded and went back to her book. I stayed in the room with her until Mama came in to tell us to go to bed. She looked tired in that moment, leaning against the frame of our doorway like it was the only thing keeping her up. I felt my anger toward her fade.

Almost as if she sensed that, she suddenly straightened and strode over to tuck in my sister, asking if she had finished her chores, brushed her hair, and brushed her teeth.

She repeated the process with me, then turned to leave our room. But once again, she paused at the threshold.

“Your father will be home soon,” she said. She seemed to mean it as a reassurance, but it came off more like a question or a hope that all three of us shared. Then she swept away to her and Papa’s room.

In the dim light of our room, I slowly became aware of a glow coming from the window.

“Marie?” I whispered. “What is—” And then I realized I knew.

I could hear the smile in Marie’s voice as she answered my unfinished question. “It makes me feel all warm and cozy.”

I got up from my bed and moved to the window. Marie propped herself up in bed, and we both watched the glowing light bobbing and weaving in the forest.

“He never goes too far,” Marie said, settling back into bed. “We’re safe with him around.”

As odd as it was, I felt what she was talking about, a sense of calm and peace watching the golden light dancing among the trees. I eventually went back to bed, falling asleep easily.

Mama was in rare form the next morning.

The day started out with her yelling at Marie when she accidentally broke one of our few teacups. Later, she yelled at me for making a mistake in the scarf I was knitting for Papa when he returned. She made me unravel the entire project and then forbade me from doing any more knitting.

To make matters worse, a storm had started up outside, making it impossible to even leave the house for a few minutes, so that by noon, it felt like we were a spark away from an emotional inferno. Marie hid in our room, which meant I needed to stay in the common space, lest Mama wonder why we were both so quiet and give us more chores to do.

So we sat in silence, me trying and failing to enjoy a book while Mama’s knitting needles clacked together over and over and over again.

Eventually, Mama spoke. “What is your sister doing?”

“I think she’s also reading,” I said cautiously.

“Isn’t she supposed to be cleaning the kitchen?”

“I took care of that earlier,” I said. We went back to our clack-filled silence until she spoke up again.

“Shouldn’t you be working on your knitting?”

I put down my book angrily but managed to keep control of my tone. “You didn’t want me working on any more knitting projects, remember?”

“Ah. Yes.”

Silence and noise filled the room once more. I kept reading and rereading the same page, barely able to focus with the constant clacking of Mama’s needles and my own seething anger. Eventually, she spoke up again.

“Actually, I need you to try working on the scarf again in case—”

“Would you just make up your mind?”

I realized with a mix of horror and satisfaction that I said those words out loud. Mama’s face became a mask of anger.

“Young lady, you—”

“No!” I shouted, now unable to stop the flood of emotion that had been building over the course of the day, but really over the course of the entire winter, ever since Papa failed to return home. “I hate you and I hate living with you and I hate this stupid house—”

The words sounded stupid coming out of my mouth, but I couldn’t stop the torrent of hatred spewing out of me. My Mama, my poor Mama, sat there and took my verbal slashing and stabbing, wilting more and more as I went on. I hated her for not being strong enough to stand up to me, but I hated myself even more for what I was saying. Eventually, blessedly, I stopped and simply stormed out of the house, not even taking a hat or gloves, and ran out into the snowstorm.

I quickly realized how foolish it had been to not dress properly, but I was too prideful and angry to go back. I trekked deeper and deeper into the woods, my hands and nose starting to go numb before I finally felt my anger fade enough for me to admit I needed to go home.

I started following my footsteps back, but the wind and snowfall had all but obscured my passage. I looked around the forest, trying to get my bearings, but between the snow and fading light, I realized with a sinking heart that I didn’t know which direction home was.

I sank to the ground, crying hot, angry tears, my soul suddenly feeling hollowed out and empty, all emotion spent. I cried for my Papa, whom I suddenly missed more than I thought possible. I cried for hurting Mama, for abandoning Marie, and for myself, because I was scared and alone in a snowstorm in the middle of winter.

And in that moment, I suddenly saw a light.

It was faint at first, just a flickering in the distance, but as it grew closer, I suddenly recognized it as that same golden glow I’d seen the night before.

The light reached me, and I could see now that it wasn’t a lantern held by a stranger in the woods. It was a floating, glowing orb.

A wisp.

The wisp circled me, and I could feel a wonderful warmth emanating from it, quickly bringing my frozen toes and fingers and nose and ears back to life. It was like having a cup of hot chocolate after playing out in the snow all day with Papa.

A few minutes later, I was able to stand again. Looking to the sky, I realized it was getting dark.

“Mama,” I whispered. She had to be so worried. Wait, no, she must hate me after what I said. Shame filled me, and I almost sank back down again. But the wisp briefly shone brighter, as if to get my attention, then darted a few meters away, glowing brightly again for a moment.

“Do you want me to…follow you?” I asked. The wisp flashed twice.

Taking a deep breath, I began following the glowing spirit into the darkening woods.

The wisp never got too far ahead of me, and once, while I was taking a breather, it drew close and bathed me with more of its warmth and—somehow—also with feelings of safety and peace and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

We continued this way for what felt like hours but couldn’t have possibly been that long. I eventually noticed another glowing light in the distance and slowed down, cautious. However, my wisp rushed forward, seemingly eager to meet the other light.

I hurried after it, rapidly approaching the other light and suddenly realizing that there were two people following this other light and that those two other people were Mama and Marie.

Our reunion was one of sobs and laughter, apologies and forgiveness, warmth and comfort despite the raging storm all around.

The two wisps—for that’s what this other light was—danced around us excitedly during our embrace. But then, as we stood up to begin our journey home together, they began to twirl around each other, spinning faster and faster until they suddenly merged into one and the golden light flared into the shape of a man.

Papa.

I suddenly realized why the wisp had made Marie and me feel safe and secure and strangely warmed. It had felt like Papa’s presence because it was Papa.

Mama’s breath caught as she realized the implications of this appearance, and Marie and I held onto her tightly as she cried for her deceased husband, for our fallen father.

The glowing spirit of Papa approached and cupped my mother’s cheek in his ethereal hand until her tears ceased. He smiled sadly at each of us in turn, love evident in his eyes, a love we could almost tangibly feel.

Then, his form dissolved and once again became a glowing orb. He shot off into the distance, suddenly flaring with brilliant light, our humble home illuminated beneath his glow.

We stumbled through the falling snow, reaching the house as the glow began to fade, until all that was left was the light from the crackling fire within. A sob escaped Mama as we stood on the porch. Marie and I squeezed her hands, and she gave us both a tired, sad, but slightly hopeful smile.

Together, the three of us entered the home, a place that would now be absent Papa’s physical presence but very much alive with his warmth and love.