Cinderella's Hearth: The Heart of the Home by Kelly Jarvis

In the story of Cinderella, the protagonist is banished to the chimney corner where she sits among the cinders and ashes. It is a pointed way for the persecuting stepmother and stepsisters to let Cinderella know where she stands in terms of family importance, but I have always thought that Cinderella’s sojourn by the fireside was more than just a punishment. The hearth, often the physical center of a home, serves as an emotional center as well, and, for Cinderella, it is a place where the grieving girl is comforted by the light and warmth of her mother’s memory.

The hearth was so important to the Ancient Greeks that one of six Olympian gods, Hestia, reigned over it. The first born child of Cronus and Rhea, Hestia was assigned the task of maintaining the fires of the Olympian hearth, and whenever food was cooked in the mortal realm, a small offering was burnt in her honor. Hestia stayed close to the immovable hearth, so she is often the forgotten sibling among her brothers (Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades) and sisters (Hera and Demeter). She is not lauded in the wild stories that circulate about the antics of the gods and goddesses, but, according to Homer, it was Hestia, the domestic goddess of the hearth, who was chief among mortals.

Even in the 21st Century, when we cook in ovens, microwaves, and crock-pots (or, my favorite, order take-away), the hearth remains the center of the home. My own home is crafted of small rooms, and in each one, I have a hearth, either gas, wood burning, or electric. We don’t use them as sources of heat, though the flames take the chill out of the air on a crisp, autumn day. Our hearths are mostly decorative, and they serve as gathering places for our family and friends.

Yesterday was the Autumnal Equinox, and my hearths stood ready to greet the beginning of the dark half of the year. One of my hearths is overflowing with sparkling pumpkins and maple leaves, while another is piled high with spell books, potion bottles, and flickering lanterns that represent my dark side (because all women, be they fairy tale protagonists or goddesses, have one). The decor of my hearths changes with the seasons. I add evergreen boughs for winter, bunnies for spring, and seashells for the long, hot summer, but it is always my hearths that welcome my family home, beckoning my husband and to sit together by the twinkling lights and share the stories of their day. 

Cinderella and Hestia may have been relegated to the hearth, but I like to think the hearth is the place from which they drew their strength, a center that offered them peace, comfort, light, and warmth. Even this column, Cinderella’s Hearth, started by The Fairy Tale Magazine’s founder and resident Fairy Godmother Kate Wolford, is a virtual gathering place for tips and ideas that help all of us to enchant our lives with practical magic.

I hope you take some time to add meaningful objects to your own hearths this season (be they mantles, shelves, tables, corners, or even the hidden spaces inside your heart), because after a long day, there is nothing like a hearth to welcome us home.  

Kelly Jarvis works as the Assistant Editor for The Fairy Tale Magazine where she writes stories, poems, essays, book reviews, and interviews. Her poetry has also been featured or is forthcoming in Blue Heron Review, Mermaids Monthly, Eternal Haunted Summer, Forget Me Not Press, The Magic of Us, A Moon of One’s Own, Baseball Bard, and Corvid Queen. Her short fiction has appeared in The Chamber Magazine and the World Weaver Press Anthology Mothers of Enchantment: New Tales of Fairy Godmothers. You can connect with her on Facebook (Kelly Jarvis, Author) or Instagram (@kellyjarviswriter) or find her at https://kellyjarviswriter.com/