The fire crackles and fills my small living room and kitchen with the orange glow of dancing flames, soul filling heat, and the soft burning smell of trees chopped by my dad in the woods outside my house. Last night I slept next to this fire, battling sleep while trying to soak in all warmth of my sleeping family. Outside, the moon fell in long, silver beams through the trees and unto the snow. I felt suspended in darkness between the stark, cold light of the moon and the golden glow of the fire, caught in a quiet world without borders or clear definitions. This image seems to fit my state of mind right now: quiet, floating somewhere between the fullness and abundance of home and a certain emptiness of self I need in order to begin life anew.
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