We had one of those Chimnea’s on our back patio to light a little fire inside and create ambiance. I didn’t like it. I wanted to view the fire in it’s natural environment. I could only see a rectangle-shaped window of it’s performance.

I also didn’t like how the fire was trapped in there, kept small, not allowed to grow naturally. It reminded me of the way some Chinese women wrap their feet to keep them dainty. It’s unnatural.

So I built a fire pit in the back yard. I go out there every evening and burn papers, sticks, leaves, anything. It’s like playing with a pet on a leash. It is allowed some room to grow and dance, but controlled.

I have also learned to control my urge to set the fire free. I have been supervised by my parents, and have proven that I am safe with fire. They join me often, sometimes with marshmellows, or even let me roast hot dogs.

Here I muse, plan, and take in the wonder that is the element of fire. I stoke and calm it, play with it, and admire it.

Tonight it is unsatisfying.