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.

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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.