Still Burning

Yesterday evening, I walked with Music down the road that leads to Marjorie's house. We found her alone with a large bonfire on the bluff looking out on the water. She had been burning debris of various sorts and was about to douse the flames before night came on.

My appearance caused her to poke up the fire a bit for our mutual pleasure. The hot pink sky alone was a pleasure. The flames, orange embers and dense blue smoke were enough to stir up memories of childhood bonfires. Not surprisingly, I spoke of these, and my cousin denied such memories, saying her bonfire memories mostly came from her adult life. Not mine...

I remember hotdogs charred on a stick and marshmallows toasted to crispy perfection with oozy sweet insides burning the tongue. I remember the older kids chasing each other wildly and my older sister with melted marshmallow stuck in her hair. On New Year's Eve, my uncle Peter pushed dozens of oysters under the flames to roast in the embers. When they sizzled, the steam escaping from opening shells, they were dipped in melted lemon butter and eaten right there on the beach. I remember sitting on a log close up to the fire, my cheeks all toasty and warm while my back was chilled. I felt my whole dreamy self be pulled by my gazing eyes right into the flames.  If I happened to break my gaze to look into someone else's eyes, there were flames there, too. I remember...