Campfire Night

After posting grades, I did a little celebrating by the campfire on Tuesday evening. While I sat by the fire, a bird with a sparkly voice tweeted out his alternating pitch.

I texted My family: It's this dark here, and the birds are still singing.

The place is almost a mini-Paradise. So serene. So quiet...except for the bird and the crickets that started their chirping.

I'd managed to start a small fire using debris from a previous fire still in the fire pit. I found a few twigs and added a piece of paper. Soon, the medium-sized sticks caught, so I added two mesquite logs the landscapers gave me. They would come into the health food store each morning for smoothies. One day we were talking mesquite wood, so they brought me some. Such nice people! With the heady smell of campfire, I felt grateful for people like that, people who come into life for however long and are just awesome.

I unbraided my hair in the smoke of the fire. I wanted to smell the woodsmoke all night long.

A few stars started showing in the sky.

Now what?

In the sudden pause to life, I checked my phone, hoping someone texted back. I like my alone time, but I suddenly missed community.

No one texted. So, I played the guessing game over which of my two hijas would be awake.

"Mom, we're watching a movie, but I'll put it on pause."

We talked a bit about work and about her upcoming wedding. Then, I told her how I was camping my way to my summer job. "This place feels so remote," I said. "If I screamed, no one would hear me."

"Mom!" she exclaimed.

Oh, no! I didn't mean to cause panic. I quickly added, "It's alright. I've got a shotgun...and Buena."

"Mom!" she intensely repeated.

I told her I was just getting ready to go inside and would be safe.

Which I did because night fell swiftly.

I took one last glance at Orion low on the western sky. He'd be disappearing for summer soon. The winter star, the dog star Sirius, would be following close behind.