There were a lot of pine trees and a shallow but long river that cut through my backyard. I would always go to a small fire pit that i made next to the river in front of a big rock. There were times where i would just stare at the water and have a languid feeling come over me while the wind blew the leaves that were scattered all over the place along with pine cones and dead branches that would fall from the trees. The leaves would be blown in an ecstatic manner making it seem as if they were dancing.

            The little fire would look so beautiful. The flames would flick up in the air while the embers crackled as the fire consumed the wood i would feed it , providing asylum from the cold. However the heat it would give off was superficial, only keeping my skin and face warm while the cold was profound, making my bones ache as i watched the fire eat every dead tree limb like a hungry beast that would continue to eat everything in its reach.  

            Sometimes i would doze off, looking at the flames of my little fire, watching it consume everything it touched. I pulled out an old wrinkled paper from my pocket and stared at it. It was a picture of my mom when she was pregnant and my father right beside her. My father had a drunken grin spread across his face while my mother had a subjugated look. I looked at the piece of paper one more time before i threw it into the fire and watched it turn into ash. A sense of deliverance crosses me as i am fixated on the fire.