i woke to a cold house

at five am i peeled myself away from my sleeping son. the house was unusually cold. my exposed arm that cradled tristan was still stiff as i tried to push myself upright. the front room that keeps the wood stove was just as cold. no light, no glow, not even a flicker stirred in the fire box. i pushed the ashes around and found my prize a single coal fiery and hot. a few slivers of oak and some added draft sparked new life into the house. i piled some smaller wood on the tiny blaze and closed the doors. days before i cleaned the glass on the stove and my reward today was a beautiful dance of fire. mesmerizing, i let my mind drift trying to find the patterns in the fractal of rich color. i thought about God and my family always returning to the next lick of flame. the room began to warm. the only noise was the gentle roar of the breath of our captive dragon. i decided that God does exist, my family being the proof and that the only thing that could make this moment better would be a warm cup of coffee.