I happen to be married to the world’s most amazing gift giver. He always gives me something I absolutely love and didn’t even know I wanted. The gifts he comes up with are thoughtful and perfect. That drated man. I mean, who can compete with that? The pressure to deliver a stellar present is too much. I try and try. My mind spins so much it gives me a headache, and still I’ve got nothing. Every. Stinking. Holiday.
I began considering Father’s Day gifts two months before the event. I Googled and fretted until I had a breakthrough.
What man wouldn’t want a large fire? I texted all the kids and asked if they could attend a bonfire on the evening of Father’s Day. They were in.
How could I ever have guessed that in the two month’s time between solidifying my bonfire plan and the event itself, my husband would fell three, yes, three whole trees and load them onto the fire pit in our backyard? Every time I saw him and our strapping sons adding branches and trunks onto the enormous pile of wood, I grew giddier.
Technically, yes, he built his bonfire himself. Glossing over that, the kids secretly spread blankets just out of the incineration zone, carried buckets of popcorn and gallons of Kool-aid, and, as the sun set, we let them loose with lighters and the fire blazed toward the heavens.
We had underestimated the inferno, and some of us sacrificed eyebrows. There was more than a little sweating going on, and the blankets had to be moved to accommodate the adjusted incineration zone. Once our adrenaline wore off and we inventoried our body parts, we sat on our blankets and gazed at the magnificence of the blaze against the night sky. The crackle of logs joined the song of the crickets and toads, and we sat, content in a way that only happens when nature shows off all around and you realize that you are the smallest part of the show.
Each person had come prepared and we told stories of our favorite memories – laughed at some and cried at others. The conversation was every bit as mesmerizing as the flames.
Twenty-four hours later, the fire was still burning.
And Mike does not regret wearing his pajama pants the entire evening.