The Wife Before Christmas

Rhett, over at Roanoke Firefighters blog, sent out a challenge for a poem about firefighters or a related topic.


So I wrote this:


The Wife Before Christmas


The night before Christmas, a dear holy hour
I sit with a brandy in front of the fire.
Alone with our child tucked asleep down the hall
and the man that I love has gone out on a call.


He's a fireman, you see, and when sirens blast
He rushes to help, to bring hope to you fast.
Through smoke, in the ice, in hard driving rain,
He offers assistance and helps folks in pain.


No though for himself, he offers a hand,
No matter the season or what we had planned.
I just let him go, see him off with a kiss
and try not to worry about what he will miss -


Baby's first step, or her eyes all alight
When she sees what Ol' Santa leaves her tonight.
I pray for his safety, that he comes back to me
That he not be in danger is my nightly plea.


He's my whole life, I give him all that I can.
He's one of the finest - he's a fireman.


Okay, so not great poetry. Also not entirely true in my circumstance, as we have no children. But if we *had* children, it would be like that. As it is I usually just expect something to go wrong and him not be here - you know, things like toilets overflowing or furnaces not working, or three feet of snow.

He is home with me this Christmas Eve, and tomorrow, too. Not so next year, when he pulls Christmas Eve duty. I have spent a number of Christmas Eves or Christmas Day's without him.

Being a firefighter's wife means you always say "I love you" and you don't fight because there's no way to know what will happen in the next moment. I can't count the number of times we've been saying "good night" over the phone only to have the alarm bells ring. He dashes off to a fire and then calls me back later, even it is 3 a.m., to let me know he is okay.

He is a public servant. He saves lives. I am very proud of him.