Tonight we dragged our forgotten Christmas tree from the woods behind the house and watched it burn us into the Ides of March. Making it through the winter and Monday was enough excuse for dinner to turn into coffee and s’mores, and the music carried us into the kind of night dream and wonder that drifts naturally around campfire circles.
The music. This time two years ago it was an echo of the future, but I couldn’t listen then. I was in love and for no good reason, I couldn’t breathe. Love was something that took your breathe away, I thought. Love was something that suffocates. This time two years and two days ago, I was in love and he was gone. And for no good reason, I couldn’t breathe.
The fire licked at the still green branches and flared for a moment, threatening to take to the trees on its way to the sky. As the heat burned my face and my legs through my jeans, I wondered briefly what I would do if the flames leaped in my direction.
Nashville shined through the fire and the trees- our own little view of the city.
“Make a wish,” she said. I closed my eyes but caught myself mid breath, because I already found what I’d been wishing for.
I’m in love, and like all the best things in life it’s not at all what I expected.
Nashville. Music. The lights that blinked in the distance. It was all in a wish, and it’s a different kind of love but it’s all the same to me.
I pulled my hand away from the side of my shielded face and stared into the heart of the fire, not daring or defiant. Just unafraid of getting burned.