Its just a fireplace.
That's what I say to myself while I'm sitting in front of it....
But as I sit perched here letting my hair dry, I think of every fireplace.
I love my faux fireplace and fire here.
I remember back to making a fire by myself in my very own grow up house.
I remember teaching my husband how to use egg cartons, newspaper, and dryer lint for starters.
I reflect back to Girl Scouts and how my mom taught me all those things.
I remember begging Daryk to go out into the rain and snow and get more wood.
I loved the fire.
I hated the gathering and transporting of the wood.
I think back to sitting in front of a fireplace with my grandparents.
They would sit in their recliners and we would all watch Wheel of Fortune.
If we went to fetch the hair dryer, Grandma would dry our hair for us.
If not, we roasted our backs and let the fireplace dry our hair.
I remember marveling at Grandma Ouida and her vast vocabulary.
She never missed a phrase and she would have won Jeopardy too.
Any day of the week...
I remember way far back to a tiny house in Powder Springs.
I remember sitting in front of a fireplace there too.
I recall sitting in itchy, scratchy, pajamas there.
I know I shared that hearth with Kathryn.
I know we had matching pajamas.
I feel bad for a minute because I know I'm the reason she crashed face first into the hearth...
I know that we sat there during the coldest nights while our hair dried.
That probably took hours, because it takes forever now.
We have always had ridiculously thick hair!
Hayes asked me tonight about our fireplace.
He asked me if it was real.
Yes, it is.
It is a real fireplace.
It makes heat and flames.
It keeps our toes toasty and it could help dry our hair.
As the seasons drag us deeper into the winter I know our fireplace will become more real to us.
I am hoping that Hayes and Libby will remember the fireplace as I do.
A place of comfort with lovely memories.