Ding dong. The doorbell rang.
I wasn’t expecting anyone, so it was a pleasant surprise to see the gentleman who left his wood splitter in our side yard months ago. Every time we’d drive past his place—the one with horses fenced in front—I’d picture myself backing his heavy machine into his driveway, setting it down like a backhanded offering, and driving off before he noticed.
It always seemed like such an odd thing to abandon at someone else’s house, but I suppose he sees the whole world as his storage unit. And now that the temperature is finally slipping below 40° more consistently at night, he’s probably back to cutting and selling wood, reclaiming the things he left scattered across the county.
We chatted for a bit. I mentioned Evelyn riding horses—something he’s brought up more than once, always telling us we should bring her by to see his. When I told him where she’s been taking lessons down past the landfill on Jackson Road, he said, “That’s my niece.” I forget sometimes how not-so-small this patch of rural Georgia really is. Everyone seems to know someone who knows you.
After he asked Evelyn whether she was excited for Santa Claus, I turned to him and jokingly asked if he’d been a good or bad boy this year.
“Bad,” he said with a smirk. Then he paused and added, “But I’ve already got my present.”
He wasn’t talking about anything wrapped in paper.
He told me his daughter’s brain and breast cancer were both fully in remission—news they weren’t sure they’d ever get. Even the two suspicious spots on her liver had stopped growing and were contained.
There it was: one of those moments when the world stops spinning for a beat. A man standing on my porch in work boots, just picking up a borrowed wood splitter, and smiling with his whole face because his daughter gets more life.
And suddenly the day felt as magical as Christmas does to Evelyn.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 