Bonfires

Along the length of the beach were fiery dots. The day had just bowed to night and in the dusting sky were bits and pieces of vibrant pinks, yellows, and oranges, left over from the earlier display regarding the suns farewell. I watched as the match struck, finding purpose on the dry logs and quickly spreading with such momentum that soon it came alive, licking and jumping, crackling in delight. Beneath me the sand was silk, creating a nice cooling contrast to my burning cheeks. I missed this. I hadn’t sat on a beach around a fire in a year, but then again it’s as if I had just done the exact thing only last week. It felt as natural and orderly as anything, like I hadn’t missed a single beat, like I hadn’t been gone a year. Though maybe, because now I’m remembering, it’s because we had been on a beach around a fire… in Africa. So, really we weren’t all that deprived. But I had also forgotten that although we were surrounding a fire, sand under our toes, dancing around the flames, and listening to locals sing songs, there was still one thing that was missing to complete the whole bonfire experience: s’mores. And that I was really deprived of.

Finding a stick strewn in the sand, I speared a marshmallow; it’s fluffy white body bubbling into a golden brown. Very deftly my dad and I transferred the hot goods onto a bed of chocolate and with one swooping motion, he clamped the two pieces of graham crackers closed. The marshmallow gradually spread, multiplying surface area and forcing its gooey insides to spill out. This was happiness. Each bite said, welcome home. Welcome back to the United States. My mouth was sticky with marshmallow body parts and I stepped away from the fire’s emanating heat. The night air gave a refreshing embrace. Cool and crisp. We had made the full circuit.