At this Starbucks, there used to be a lit fireplace. Now it sits dark and black—a reminder of how much better it used to be. In fact, I don’t really like this place anymore.
It seems that humans are naturally fascinated with fire. As a boy scout, we all were obsessed. Poking at it, rearranging wood, throwing in leaves, or simply watching. We gathered around the fire. We cooked around the fire. We told stories and sang songs around the fire. Our desire for fire is something intrinsic, not learned.
When my Grandmother died a few weeks ago, her soul left her body. Of this I am sure, even though I don’t particularly believe in any of it. But her body met the fire.