Fire Works

McKinney Falls State Park.

November 22, 2020, the Monday before Thanksgiving.

Emy and I sitting before, what was to us, a roaring fire.

The air is cold and a little wet from a light sprinkling earlier. Clouds obscure the setting sun.

“Emy, this is the first fire I’ve ever made by myself.” Very self-satisfied was I.

“Me, too. Remember I put in the wood.” Very self-satisfied and thrilled was she.

Granddaughter and grandmother build a fire together, the first for both. Who would’ve thought!

This was my first time camping by myself and it was Emy’s first time to camp ever. We had first planned to camp at McKinney Falls earlier this year during spring break and had reservations for March 20. The forecast called for thunderstorms. Her parents and I watched the weather hoping it would change. It didn’t. We were all disappointed. But the situation wasn’t bleak because the school district had announced that spring break would be extended for two more weeks due to COVID. So I merely changed our reservation to the following Monday. However, Emy and I had a trial run camping on my living room floor. No fire due to indoor burn ban in effect so marshmallows were roasted over the stove burner. There was a tent and sleeping bags and a bathroom right down the hall, all the important things. Then that weekend the mayor of Austin announced stay-at-home orders for the city beginning Monday. This included the park since it is within the city limits. Our trip was completely sunk. A little girl was very, very disappointed. And a grandmother, too.

I had been kicking around taking Emy camping for quite a while. But wasn’t sure if I had the skill to do it by myself. I have been camping many times but usually with a man. I have never had to set up the tent and stove and fire all by myself. And be responsible for everything to work as it should. Then earlier in the year before COVID-induced pandemia, a girl friend of mine, who is a camper, and I decided to take a weekend camping trip. She had all the necessary gear and then some. She even had party lights that we strung between two trees. We stayed for two nights and it was C-O-L-D! But it was very fun. I watched and learned–and helped too, of course. I was very impressed with the campfire which she prepared expertly and with confidence. It really was a roaring fire.

Full disclosure: I am afraid of fire. Not as bad as I used to be. When I was a little girl Emy’s age and even older, I was terrified of fire. In my imagination a flame could become a raging inferno and leave me and everything around in a pile of cinders in no time flat. Sadly, fire was just one of my fears. I was also afraid of tornadoes and the dark. My poor parents! I must have been a real trial to raise. Funny thing, though, now I can’t sleep if there is the slightest bit of light. And fear of fire mostly concerns candles and not raging infernos. I guess in some ways I have grown up.

I still struggle with fear as an adult. Five years ago when I was newly divorced, if I had to make a decision about something involving finances, or my car or where to live, I was frozen with fear. I had no confidence that I could make those kinds of decisions, much less even understand how to make those kinds of decisions. But with each decision I made I learned and gained confidence. Looking back I see that my fears were for naught. I don’t remember even one decision I have made that led to calamity. Sure, I made some mistakes and some decisions could have been better. Nevertheless, I’m still here and I’m ok.

Back to camping. Late last year, again before anyone even knew what the virus was, I planned to take a road trip to tour ancient Native Indian sites in the Southwest. And I planned to camp. All by myself. It was one of those Can-I-Do-This? tests. In one of my previous posts I wrote about walking a Camino. That was my first really big Can-I-Do-This? test. It wasn’t easy but I passed it. I knew camping on my road trip would be an opportunity to fend for myself in new situations. Sure, I’d make mistakes. But, I told myself, it would be good for me and fun as well. If I came back in one piece it would be a success. So one purpose of the March camping trip with Emy was a dry run for my longer three week trip. I was going to leave toward the end of April this year. But, of course, COVID hit and I didn’t go. Next April, fingers crossed and vaccinated, I’ll go.

Camping is supposed to be a good activity for kids to learn not only about the outdoors but about how to take care of themselves, to not be afraid of taking chances, to have confidence in themselves and their abilities. And you know what? It’s also a good activity for grandmothers to gain confidence in themselves and their abilities. I admit, I had some qualms about making a fire: laying the kindling first, placing the fire starter, stacking the logs so air could get in and finally lighting it. Emy helped add kindling and arranged the logs all by herself with a little instruction from me. Then I lit the fire starter and slowly, a spark here and crackle there, flames grew and the fire came into being. And you know what? I wasn’t afraid. Imagine that. I was very careful, but I wasn’t afraid. I’ve thought about it and I think that in some sort of unexpected way she is teaching me while I am teaching her.

So we sat before a campfire, the first each of us ever made, very satisfied with ourselves and our roaring fire.

For me and Emy, fire works.

Thanks for dropping into our campsite. Stay safe. And have no fear.

Woodpile Kitty