“Honey, turn on the news.” My Mom was ever the sweet angel. She had a hard time raising her voice. Even in an emergency, she’d be like, ‘call 911 dear, and I’ll get some towels, that poor bloody man.’

I turned on the evening news. I was greeted by a charming aerial shot of the most perfect roaring orange flames. I stared. I didn’t even hear the words of the reporter as the camera shots changed, displaying all angles of the inferno. The only bad thing is that television can’t capture the small details, color changes, nor the whole dance of the fire’s life in a few camera shots. It was really disappointing. It left me wanting more..

“So terrible.” Mom interrupted my thoughts.
“What?” I questioned, ready to defend fire’s brilliance and power if need be.
“It was an arson. At least it was an abandoned house. Imagine if someone was living there! It would be terrible!”

She walked away, to stir something, but her words resonated inside me.

Next time I’d have to be more careful.