I can still feel the heat.

The way it made me glow from the outside in.

Intense yet gentle soothing.

Giving off the kind of light that hurt to stare at.

Drying out the eyes but certainly not the heart.

A condition that lasted as long as the logs did.

***

It was always sad watching the coals fade.

Sympathy for something so temporary and hard to maintain.

Beautiful flames lasting shorter than a flower would.

Using the same amount of energy during it’s lifetime and more.

Always guttering out far too soon.

Dissolving into its opposite twins Darkness and Cold.

***

As a child, I savored it yet took it for granted.

It was something that always happened in the winter and I was never the one to stoke it.

Instead, I would sit and watch the flames lick.

Browning the special glass after I dried off after a shower.

I still remember how mad my parents were when I accidentally broke off one of the door handles from getting too close.

The glow behind the panes would draw me in.

***

As I got older I noticed more than the flames.

The dust it caused that mom frenetically tried to keep off the furniture.

The way it tricked the house heat into thinking that the entire house was warm so my bedroom would freeze.

How terribly difficult it could be be to ignight and empty.

It took taking my eyes away from the flames to realize the effort.

We never light fires in the fireplace anymore.

***

I miss the crackle and how the smell mixed with the Christmas tree so well.

How the animals would lay on the mat in front.

Feeling the warm air from the fireplace fan on the back of my legs as I sit with my feet on a stool.

But most of all, I miss not caring about the dust.

I can never undo that knowledge.

And it will never be the same again.