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sorchawenchWe've been married for 21 years. We've been together for 28.
We're best friends. Each other's shield, shoulder, and support system.
But we've reached a point where the fires, well...they don't burn quite as hot as they used to. Part of it is medical. He's on medications that keep certain fires from flaming, if you get my drift. But a good deal of it is just...comfortability.
We're just too comfortable.
The fire is banked, we're tucked in for the night, and sleep is calling our names.
~*~
I remember Fire.
I remember when the flames burned hot, and high, and almost out of control. We burned like the dry brush of a forest fire. Licking, devouring, razing the landscape bare until we lay alongside each other, covered in sweat, panting for air.
.
.
.
When we were younger and had more energy and less stress.
~*~
Some nights I think about stoking that fire. Adding a log, some tinder, and blowing to see if the spark can be rekindled.
But my own insecurities raise their head and I draw back from the woodpile. Almost afraid to find out that no amount of kindling will get even a small fire glowing in the night.
~*~
Today the fire sometimes seems to be barely there. A kiss here, a touch there...a far cry from what we once were.
But just enough to see by the glow of the fire's light.
We're best friends. Each other's shield, shoulder, and support system.
But we've reached a point where the fires, well...they don't burn quite as hot as they used to. Part of it is medical. He's on medications that keep certain fires from flaming, if you get my drift. But a good deal of it is just...comfortability.
We're just too comfortable.
The fire is banked, we're tucked in for the night, and sleep is calling our names.
~*~
I remember Fire.
I remember when the flames burned hot, and high, and almost out of control. We burned like the dry brush of a forest fire. Licking, devouring, razing the landscape bare until we lay alongside each other, covered in sweat, panting for air.
.
.
.
When we were younger and had more energy and less stress.
~*~
Some nights I think about stoking that fire. Adding a log, some tinder, and blowing to see if the spark can be rekindled.
But my own insecurities raise their head and I draw back from the woodpile. Almost afraid to find out that no amount of kindling will get even a small fire glowing in the night.
~*~
Today the fire sometimes seems to be barely there. A kiss here, a touch there...a far cry from what we once were.
But just enough to see by the glow of the fire's light.
