When you were a kid, did you go camping? I did. Not only was I a girl scout for 9 years, my grandfather built a cottage in the north woods of Wisconsin where my family spent our summers. My folks were teachers so we had the summers to leave the bustling suburb of Chicago to migrate north.
I really learned to love fires while camping. As a Girl Scout, we would go to White Pines Dude Ranch. At night we would recount stories around the fire: the ghost of Sarah, (warble the next bit:) the girl who was killed by a horse-drawn carriage on the bridge. If you spoke her name, you would see her - and something bad might happen to YOU! Mwuh-huh-hah!
The crackle of the wood, the heat on my face, and the tending of the flame all bring back visceral memories of laughter, love, and a time when I had few responsibilities. Being an adult is not all it's cracked up to be. There are days I long for someone else to pay my bills, clean my house, feed me, and do my laundry.
History can be remembered in kindling a fire: that kindles peace and soothes my soul.
Copyright 2010 Heather Corwin
