That Night by the Fire: In Words

It takes a while, the four weeks of continual rain having just ended, but we figure it out.

Pile the phragmites, ignite it, stay it with twigs, logs on, give it air, watch it live.

I sit on my rock and roll one, he stares at our handy work, we begin chatting and roasting hot dogs.

We pass a gallon of ice tea back and forth, we make a mess, we laugh, we quiet to listen to the music. Fireworks in the distance.

But is it? It sounds regular, echoing. We perk our ears.

In the custom of speaking his thoughts out loud He says: imagine if those were bombs.

A moment of terror as we look at each other questioning the fantasy of the situation.
…What if?

Our hearts beat, we panic and open up, speaking our minds, we get lost in our own thoughts… are we safe?

Agonizing minutes upon minutes of silence heavy with the burden of life, the implications of our cause for terror.

An arbitrary marshmallow is speared and seared. A bite of heaven ensues.

Smiles, conclusions: we had just entered the twilight zone

Reflections: enjoy life, love the moment, eat marshmallows till sick!

We realize that it is almost a full moon and arise: we must see it from the field on the hill above.

We walk with a flashlight under the protective tunnel of trees, onto a silver green surface of the moonlit field. We run with arms outstretched, smiling upward.

A mission to the shed for cigarettes and Adirondack chairs goes sour when a light goes on at the house, a nosy parental head pokes out and we wheel around, fire bound.

2 missed calls, one text message in 3 minutes. After a passionate argument, she hangs up on me. I become overwhelmed.

Tears, melancholy, deep and exhausted thought.

He roasts a perfect marshmallow and gives it to me. I genuinely smile.

A sound. A howl, many howls, yips, barks. A coyote scuffle nearby causes my heart, for the third time, to explode. I want a hug, arms around me, a head on my shoulder.

He very confidently states, from his chair to my right: Its fine dude, just listen, they’re fine.

I believe him. Beep breaths, submerge in the erie sounds of the wild.

Five minutes of mayhem then utter silence.

Deep, exhausted thought punctured by feelings drifting from our brains through our mouths to each other.

The battery dies, the music ends.

The final marshmallows are enjoyed; we walk from smoldering embers in deep, exhausted, mutually understood thought. Best friends, summertime.