Tuesday, May 8, 2012

Altered by Fire

We have a routine.  In the morning, after the kids are off to school, I sit at the kitchen table and write.  M watches The Dan Patrick Show upstairs in the office.  If I hear the floor creak, I know M is coming downstairs.

He passes through the living room, opens the blinds, strolls by me at the table, and grabs some water from the sink.  As he retraces his steps through the kitchen, under his breath he asks me how I am doing.  I typically respond as I hear his footsteps returning him to his comfortable spot in front of  Dan Patrick, which turns into Colin Cowherd, which turns into the girls being home from school.

It was at that time yesterday, as I was in the ferocity of engagement that comes with the kids needing snacks, help with homework, and rides to practices, that M escaped the commotion by doing maintenance outside in the yard.  I was pleased because our lack of curb appeal was an item of embarrassment for my 13 year old.  What was more, it was good to see him going—plowing through months of depression with fervor and ease.  He seemed to possess the joy of a child outside for the first time since the thaw of winter.

In my distraction with the kids, I failed to keep watch over what was transpiring in the yard. 

As soon as I had the girls settled in their rooms for homework and while our dinner’s fresh green beans were steaming in the microwave, I heeded my instinct and looked out the back door.

M had moved a pile of sticks and branches from behind the dog house to the middle of the yard.  Only, it was no longer a mound of natural debris.  It was a carefully crafted sculpture of the picture-perfect bon fire—minus the fire.

I heard the microwave alert me to the fact that the green beans were done and ignored it.  I was too curious.

I said, “You aren’t going to light that on fire are you?”

M lifted his Budweiser-holding hand in my direction and waved it around as he replied, “I grew up in the country.  I know how to handle a fire.  I have the hose ready.”

My eyes scanned the tall grass for our garden hose to find it in a circular heap at the edge of the yard.

He pointed the beer can toward the hose and said, “I got it. Is dinner ready?”

Food was enough to give M motivation to set that wood on fire.

I could smell it as I was loading the dishes into the Maytag.

I could hear our neighbor's voice bellowing from the direction of the rusty chain-link fence.  He told M that it was against city code to have a fire in the yard.

M replied, “I got it. I grew up in the country.”

Responding to the urge to go out back and intervene, I closed the door to the dishwasher, shut off the faucet and grabbed the hand towel, drying my hands as I walked to the back door.

Instead of reaching for the knob, my hands remained in the towel.

M was using the garden hose to put out the fire.

This morning, as I sat at the table to write, I heard the creak in the floor upstairs but no television.  M got some water from the sink, retraced his steps through the kitchen, but stopped at the table.  He pulled out a chair and sat.  He asked, "How are you doing?"

His fire for life is returning.  I just hope it stays out of the back yard.





photo credit: MarkGregory007 via photo pin cc

57 comments:

  1. oh, that fire burns bright...{within. and away from neighbors yards :) } hoping for this spring to restore. xoxo

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  2. Fire for life is excellent. Fire in the backyard, not so much.

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    1. Seriously. He's purchased a proper fire pit from Lowe's. All is well. I've only dropped into the flames three of the hot dogs I tried to cook. They smell nice. ;)

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  3. Doh. SO you are THAT family. Awesome. You would fit in great around here. Erin

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    1. We are, we are. Sophia loves us so much. :)

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  4. Oh my God, I love you even more.
    This post was effing BRILLIANT, Sperk.
    I LOVE the weirdness of your house and that you are so open in sharing it. Wow. That was some great writing.
    PS: My father was THAT man with the Budweiser, the bonfire, and the firetrucks - the whole nine yards. So I can relate.

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    1. When someone so talented calls me brilliant, I want to crawl into bed and hide under my covers. I know this is not the reaction you intended. No worries, I love long naps. Seriously, Ado, thank you. I was so darn worried that I would have to call the fire department. Glad I didn't and sorry for you having to experience it with your dad. I hate Budweiser.

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  5. I love how this post speaks literally and can be applied figuratively. I think as mother's and wives we often feel the need to put out family fires and sometimes I suppose its just better to let them burn themselves out, or to have the offender put it out himself.

    :)

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    1. Carrie,
      I love what you got from this post...it was not intended, but is so true. It really was the feeling I was having as I smelled the smoke from the fire...and worrying the kids would freak out. Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts.

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  6. I love this! The flow from beginning to end was perfect. I love the analogy of the fires.

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    1. The analogy just happened upon the backyard--funny how life hands us these gems. Thanks, Adrienne.

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  7. This is wonderful. So well written from beginning to end.
    I understand that 'fire for life returning' and how significant it is, especially when I saw that fire return to my husband little by little.

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    1. It's difficult isn't it? To watch, wait, and be patient. Thank you for being here, Heidi.

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  8. Great story, Sperk. What is it, I wonder, with men and fire. My ex-husband once set fire to the back yard to the point where neighbors had to be called in to help douse it. My significant other is obsessed with fires. Fortunately he sticks to the fireplace. Such an honest post. His fire for life is returning. Well said. And well described. Lovely tone.

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    1. Thank you, Stephanie. I don't get the fire thing, either. I only enjoy them if I'm terribly cold or if there is dancing involved.

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  9. Hah! Sounds like quite an important fire!

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  10. So glad the fire is returning. Great post and fantastic writing!

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  11. this was beautiful-- reflective and a powerful metaphor. your husband is lucky to have you. xo

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    1. I am referring him to your comment on a regular basis. ;)

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  12. Oh .....men and their Budweisers and fires......sigh.

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    1. Apparently we can't live without them, or, wouldn't want to?

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  13. Wow, thanks for sharing that. And so well written. I'm that other spouse. Was. Without the beer. (I was a daily wine drinker. Not any more, hence all my wine references in my comments!) And minus the fire, too, or childhood in the country. City girl, that's me. My depression lasted maybe two years. It's gone. Now I have empathy for others who have it... no quick answers or fixes. Maybe setting bon fires!
    ***
    Thanks for your Twitter comments! And livening up the Moms Who Write and Blog Pinterst board! BTW when I pinned "I don't know about those shorts" on the Parent Water Cooler board, it got 19 lively comments and 41 repins!
    ***
    I'm at LifeHappensThenWrite.com (Google plus will send you to my Google page, ick.)

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    1. Lisa,
      Thanks for your candor. It is wonderful of you to support others having been there yourself. You do not have to, and I am grateful you choose to reach out; it takes courage. TY. The convo at the water cooler is incredible. Thank you.

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  14. We, sometimes or maybe constantly, need that spark to light up the fire for life. Otherwise we fall into the mundane everyday routine. Very beautifully written, Kim!

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    1. Thank you, Jamie. Your comment certainly provides me with a spark and I'm grateful.

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  15. Oh my, this is stunning. And so very full of metaphor and richness and life and HOPE.

    (Which ultimately, is what it all comes down to, isn't it? I'm rooting for you both!)

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    1. Galit,
      Seeing you at Sperk* always leaves me feeling warm. Thank you for your words, I am truly grateful.

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  16. Beautiful... It reminded me of the Agnihotra fire ceremony that the Hindus have as a cleansing ritual. It is amazing the power of fire and the impact the ritual can have for healing, and amazing how well you tell this ceremony of M's.

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    1. Erin,
      I shared your comment with M. He is in the process of looking up the ritual. We appreciate the resource. We have been exploring alternative ideas/rituals in our healing because we both grew up in very western religious environments. Thank you.

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  17. LOVELY LOVELY LOVELY!! brilliantly written.

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  18. Fabulous post, as always. I love the way you write, the way you draw a reader into your story. Amazing.

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    1. Thank you. I am grateful to have such an inspiring reader. You definitely are a warrior in your own right.

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  19. I felt every ounce of every syllable. I am so glad the fire was a rebirth, a christening back into the light. Like Ado, I have seen my father start with an act like that and take it the other way. Ellen

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    1. The symbolism of baptism didn't hit me until I was searching for a title. I almost went with 'baptism by fire'. Glad you got it and were with me.

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  20. Why is it that every man grew up in the country when he wants to set something on fire?

    You did a wonderful job setting the mood for this story and I loved the way you tied it together at the end--little bit of humor, but not too much to make light of the situation.

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  21. Very well written post. I love the last line. :)

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    1. Thanks, Kathy. Glad you came by and enjoyed reading.

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  22. I was nervous about the fire. I just felt like something horrible and out of control was about to happen. So glad the fire signals re birth.

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    1. Me, too! I didn't know what it was about, where he was in his process. If I ask too much, seems my voice and not the message is what is heard.

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  23. love the symbolism, and as others commented, the hope.

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    1. Thanks, anna. Hope is good. I am glad you recognized it.

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  24. I suppose there is a metaphor about the hose, but I'll ignore it :)

    There is something about a fire. I have a chiminea and live burning some smaller sticks in prep for a nice log. The kids are all about picking up the sticks now.

    WG
    http://itsmynd.com

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  25. Great metaphor and great post!

    And boys will be boys about fire, won't they? My hubby's only a little obsessed with lighting things on fire. I just have to pray it doesn't end in our house ever burning down.

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    1. Always be sure to have fresh batteries in the smoke detectors. ;)

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  26. I believe the lust for fire is at least partially responsible for man's need to control a BBQ.

    Great post, as always, Sperk!

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  27. thank you so much for sharing. You don't read a lot about men going through depression. Thank you, we've had our battles too and, it helps knowing your not alone. I love that he burned a fire in a city that doesn't allow it. He had it. Its great that you let him have it, I know that had to be hard to hold back.

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  28. Kimberly,

    I like your writing style. Just found your blog, will be back to read more!!

    best,
    MOV
    http://mothersofbrothersblog.blogspot.com

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  29. Fire makes a great metaphor. Though I was expecting a different outcome from the actual fire. Fortunately I was wrong :)

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  30. Kimberly your voice continues to entrance me. I do wonder if a certain "Sperk" can be held responsible for helping him discover his "Spark"?

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  31. I love this. I didn't know how to feel (I'm still not sure...). There's a comfort, a sadness, uneasiness, so many emotions in this.

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  32. The fire pit is now legal according to city code;-)

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