Sunday, May 20, 2012


    Christmas 2011
      Snap! Pop! Sparks fly through the air and land on the floor,slowly darkening the color of the wood. As my foot begins to get hot, I rotate like a pig on a spit. The orangey glow sticks to my face like a hot mask. Resting on my dog's velvety stomach, we lie together in front of the fire place.
     To anyone else this might just be a flame. But to me, especially around Christmas time when pine needles trickle down the base of the tree and sprinkle on my face below, it's home. In front of the metal screen keeping glowing embers from escaping, is the crisp smell of winter snow that can only be described as sweet, frozen water. When you stick your nose in further, there is a burning sensation whose smell resembles a dull cinnamon bun. Lounging in front of the fire is like taking a giant sleeping pill, for whoever dares to stay for too long, is sure to be whisked off to dreamland.

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