street were also decorated with lights as well as giant metallic ornaments. Antique lampposts wrapped in natural garland lit up sidewalks that had been cleared of snow. Liam passed the small courthouse and town hall, where the giant tree that stood proudly year round was now adorned with red bows and large, colorful bulbs and lights. The church where he grew up attending mass had lights that looked like candles in every window and a well-lit manger scene by the large front doors.
After driving past rows of beautifully decorated houses, Liam arrived at the home he grew up in. He opened the front door and was instantly hit with the lovely smells of dinner and apple pie. The tree from his property had been placed in the front bay window, where it stood barren and longed to be given that Mary O’Brien touch. The rest of the home oozed Christmas cheer as holiday music played in the background on an old radio. Patrick’s twins were playing with toy cars on the rug in the center of the room, and Melanie came running toward him at full speed. She plowed into Liam hard, almost knocking his six-foot-two frame over.
Mary emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands with a dish towel as she smiled at Liam. “Oh, sweetheart, thank you again for the beautiful tree,” she said, warmly hugging her son.
“No problem, Mom.”
“Dinner is about ready. I have Daniel in the basement gathering decorations for the tree,” Mary said as she sashayed back toward her favorite room in the house, where she created all her delicious meals and treats.
Liam headed toward the basement. As he passed the den where his father and grandfather were seated in their regular spots, he peeked in for a quick hello.
“Oh, there he is,” Grandpa Paddy said. His old pipe was dangling from his lips as usual while his famous O’Brien eyes glittered with mischief.
Pat raised those same eyes up to see his son. “Your mother is positively delighted with that tree from your place.” He smiled at Liam.
“Oh, it was no problem at all. Glad she’s happy. We took our time to find one she would approve of.” Liam laughed as he joined the two men.
“Well, you lads did a fine job,” Grandpa Paddy added in his thick Irish accent.
Liam decided to sit for a moment to catch up with his father and grandfather. He took a seat on an old plaid couch that had seen better days and which was situated directly across from the two reclining, wingback chairs. The room was furnished with a variety of Grandpa Paddy’s belongings from his old house. Unlike the rest of the O’Brien home, which was well-loved but spotless and feminine, this room lacked a woman’s touch, and everything was frayed and tattered. The sweet smell of tobacco hung like a light fog in the air, mingling with smoke from the slow-burning log in the fireplace. Several bookshelves stood almost to the ceiling, packed tight with a large collection of classics. Liam’s father and grandfather were constantly reading, whether a novel from decades ago or the daily newspaper. Liam had inherited their love of reading, and it was his favorite subject to teach his students.
He loved the den. The low light from the lamps on the several side tables was bright enough to read by. The small, crystal bowl that always seemed to be filled to the brim with aging caramels and a rainbow selection of hard candies never moved from its spot on the end table next to Grandpa Paddy.
When Liam was in high school, his grandmother had passed away, and after a couple months of his mother insisting, Grandpa Paddy had come to live with them. Grandpa Paddy and Pat had worked together for as long as Liam could remember, and even today they spent most of their free time with each other.
Grandpa Paddy was unlike any other grandfather Liam had ever encountered. He was unique, not just because of his brogue, but in so many ways. He was playful almost to a fault, and mischief spun wildly in his eyes. Many times, his mother had held back
Learning to Kill: Stories