There are a million fires blazing in my life right now.
In the kitchen, literally, where I work.
In the kitchen, between coworkers and myself.
In my private life.
“…fire of my loins.”
In my public life.
I cannot possibly put them all out.
Fire is a constant in my life.
Then this tidal wave of tender hearted nostalgia and kindness, a portrait painted of the past as heartfelt as it is well-observed, swallows them all. And in this moment I am happy, and somehow, I feel warmer now than I was in the midst of all the flame and fury of the clusterfucked day.