The Woodcutter
One log at a time
John and Jen made their way into the cabin.
As it tends to do where they live, the snow caught them off guard. They hoped to get the little old cabin ready for winter but each weekend something came up.
“Oh well,” John said, “just means I get to try my new chainsaw.”
“I hate splitting firewood,” Jen said, “that was always my job when we were younger.”
“No worries,” John said, “I’ll take care of it. As long as I’m here you never have to worry about firewood.”
“I can help,” she said.
“It’s fine. I got it. I love it. Stay inside.”
“Well if you insist,” she said smiling.
John gathered his supplies and headed into the woods while Jen organized things inside. It wasn’t long before she heard the chainsaw going and then not too much later the familiar sound of logs being split.
Later, Jen heard a knock at the door. She opened it to see Bert, the jolly, large man who lived on the next property.
“Hi Bert.”
“Ms. Jenny,” he replied, “I saw y’all’s truck going down the road. Thought I’d come by and see if you guy’s needed anything.”
“Oh thanks,” Jen said, “I just wish we’d have had some firewood. So John didn’t have to be out in the snow.”
“Oh gosh. Don’t worry. John Mason loves chopping wood. Boy always has. Thinks he’s Paul Bunyan.”
“Really?”
“Yes. He’s in heaven right now. He probably did it on purpose.”
“I see.”
“I’ll go make sure he doesn’t need a hand. He never does but it’s polite to ask.”
Jen chuckled, “I suppose so.”
“I’ll see y’all tomorrow. Sarah has some stuff she wants brought over.”
“Okay.”
And so John Mason kept chopping wood.
It went on that way for years. Each time they went to the cabin. The first thing they had to do was get firewood.
This time they walked up to the house they were no longer newlyweds. And they weren’t alone. Four children dashed into the old cabin. They were older now. Both a little grey in their hair, and John had a little more round the middle than he used.
John headed to the woods once more.
“Why don’t we just order the wood this year?”
John grabbed his heart, “You wound me,” he said laughing. “I told as long as I’m here you don’t have to worry about firewood.”
“Alright.”
John and their youngest son went off into the woods.
And that’s how it was most years.
Until one day Jen went to the cabin.
Just Jen.
She brought in enough groceries for just her. The kids couldn’t make it. They’d be there the next weekend though. She took it upon herself to get the cabin ready.
She looked around the old cabin and once again looked at the empty space near the wood stove.
She sighed and proceeded to look around for the chain saw and the ax and the other supplies but quickly realized she had no idea way they were. They weren’t in the storage shed.
She went inside and called Old Bert.
“Hi Bert.”
“Jen! It’s good to hear from you. I’m sorry about John.”
“I am too.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral. They won’t let me travel anymore.”
“Nonsense Bert. Don’t you feel bad. I understand. John would’ve too.”
“Still.”
“It’s okay Bert. But, I’m calling to see if you know where chainsaw is and John’s ax?”
“Oh yes. He gave it to me last year. I’ll send Junior over.”
“Thank you Bert.”
“Take care Jen.”
Not too much later, a large man the spitting image of old Bert walked up with a wheelbarrow.
“Hey Junior,” she said, “where’s the stuff? I thought you dad was sending John’s woodcutting equipment over.”
“Oh you don’t know do you?”
“Know what?”
“Come with me. You don’t need a chainsaw just this,” he said pointing to the wheelbarrow.
The two of them walked into the woods. Jen gasped when she saw it. And then nearly cried.
Piles and piles of wood. Neatly stacked. Years and years of wood.
“Oh my word,” Jen said.
“Yup, John’s been sneaking up here for years. There’s got to be ten years’ worth there.”
Jen could only laugh, “he said I’d never have to worry about firewood.”
Bert Jr. chuckled, “John Mason did love chopping wood.”
I'm the king he was obsessed with chopping wood! Good story!