The Far Fireside

The Far Fireside

1

   A warm place. A resonant and comforting rhythm. I remember this place, the brick walls that surround me on three sides. the vent up above and the opening in front where my love pours out. And you are there again, sitting with me like so many other times. I can look into your eyes forever, as you look into mine. We have this connection, always have. When you look at me I know you are dreaming, or thinking about things. I don't mind, that is what i am here for. I am your refuge.

   Tonight you built me up so much more slowly than before, I watched your hands tremble. Those lovely hands! What they mean to me you may never know, if only I could tell you. If only I could embrace you, engulf and fill you. But we are worlds apart. Those same beautiful hands that can bring me to life, stir my passion, and guide me. Those same hands cannot even touch me because I am dangerous. Through no fault of my own, It is just that whenever we get close, It hurts. But I found a way to be nearby.

   Tonight your favorite chair is here, your favorite blanket over your legs, and you look almost as warm as me. Your eyes are drowsy, and your relaxation reassures me that my love is keeping you comfortable. Even if that is all I can do, it will be enough. It is enough. You have fallen asleep.

   A shadow has been falling on the grandfather clock over the last hour. The corners of the room have faded into darkness. You have been breathing softly, undisturbed by the encroaching night, and I'm almost worn to ashes.

2

   I put the kettle on and secured the windows. My hands were so shaky I almost spilled the water. A drafty old house I just never got around to caulking up. The shutters were rattling just a little bit, and I had to get down on my knees to secure one. A storm in the heavens was sending a faint low whistle through the gap under the door, above the floor. I felt like God sent this tune to me, this little deep whisper of a note. It sang a song of longing, yearning broke out in my heart. A desire for it, or for what it sang about. I wanted to follow that note up into the air. I wanted for the wind to carry me up through the horizon and out the other side. To where the curious sort might go if they could slip between the cracks and traverse the rest of it.

   I must have dozed off. I opened my eyes and stared at nothing for a moment. My legs were stiff and a sharp pain in my kneecaps reminded me of this worn out body. Oh getting up took a few minutes, and shuffling over to pour tea took a few more. I had the vid screen queued up, but I had that wind-song in my spirit. No mood for filling my mind with other people's fantasies. So I just put another log on the fire, poked it a bit, and settled down in the recliner.

   Comfort. The heat of the fire and the music of the wind were especially touching that night. Like old friends with new stories. Closing my eyes, I snuggled into the mold the couch had cast over time. I was present with the longing sound, and what could be on the other side. An ecstasy filled my vision, of Ester when she was young. Oh my Love! How I miss you so terribly! Remember us!

3

   You stopped breathing when the clock struck eleven. I flickered, feeling some strange weakness. Our night is almost over, and what little heat I have left cannot change that. I can keep a vigil over you, this last bit of light to reveal us. The shadow of your favorite chair has become a shroud against the far wall, rising up against the ceiling. I am afraid. The core of the last bit of wood has cracked open, and I nestle into it, waiting for the end.

Up above, a song is whistling over the chimney. The long sorrowful tune you loved so much; so that you could not bear to seal the house completely. It is louder now, some of it even reaches my nest, and gives me breath. Another gust, and another sigh make me rise. The wind is singing to me! Now I understand the message, and what to do.

   The wind rises to a crescendo, vaulting down from the sky down the chimney and into my embers. The ash and soot puff out in a cloud. I am scooped up and carried out of the fire place, into the room, floating in mid air. The wind pauses, and I drift down to you. There is nothing to be afraid of anymore.

   Your face is relaxed like I haven't seen in years, your arms lightly resting in your lap. I land on your old wool sweater, right above your heart. My cinder cools, sending the very last of my heat to you. All that I ever have been is a fading memory, sent out with the last breath of the wind.

4

   We are together somehow. I remember being your flame. I remember sitting and waiting for you to come home, open that drafty door and call out my name. I kept you warm through all those lonely last years in that house. Here you are, here we are, what a strange thing it is to be.

   Oh my Love! We are young again, I feel like dancing! We rise from the chair, and no pain is left. We can dance on our ashes, spin and rise! We don't pause but run to the hallway, throw open the door, and leap out into the mysterious new life! The sky is filled with stars as bright as the moon, the moon as bright as the sun. The winter seems like spring, but we can't be distracted by these things.

   Our eyes are opened now, and there is a path we had never seen before. Our ears are opened now, and the fullness of our song, the howling wind sings what the longing-low-notes had foreshadowed, it is the symphony of the heavens. We can go now, we are finally ready. Abiding in our Lover's eyes.