Heat from a fire long cold

Heat from a fire long cold.

All day long, it had been bugging me. The countryside all seemed so
familiar, like I knew exactly where I was going. Things were the same
but different. I knew this area, but I don't know from when. The more I
drove, the more certain I became.

When I turned along the coast road, it came to me! I had been here
before, but that was almost thirty years ago. I'd been to North Head
when I was a teenager, and had found and lost the most beautiful girl
in the world. God, I haven't thought about that for years, that whole
summer.

From the time she got out of her parents car, she had me. After the
usual family introductions, we left our parents and walked, and walked
and walked. It was like we had known each other forever. She not only
had my attention, she had my heart.

As the summer rolled on, we became inseparable. Right up until the end
of summer.

The last night, we sat around the fire and I knew that the flames of
summer weren't the only things ending. All fires must die, eventually.
Even knowing this, we sat and talked until the fire was just a faint
glow. We kissed goodbye, and it was a kiss that I would carry with me
forever. Some things are locked into your memory and some things get
burned into your soul. This was one of those things.

Remembering all this made me sad. Where had all of the joys in my life
gone? I remember swimming when it really was way too cold. Wrapping her
in my towel. Standing out in the rain. Walking not to get anywhere,
just walking.

Life was certainly simpler then. Back then, I had great plans and was
going to do great things. Looking back, I had done the greatest thing
already. I had loved someone.

As I pulled into the camping ground, I could see it like it was
yesterday, exactly where we had camped, where the tents were, where I
first ever saw you, where our fire was - everything. It's still a
popular spot and there were a few campers scattered around, but no-one
was camped at "my" spot.

I got out and it was like I was fifteen again. The newness of it all
hit me, all over again.

There must have been campers here. I could see the remains of their
fire, right where ours had been. I walked over, and as I crouched down,
I felt it. The warmth, but without the heat. I sat down and thought of
you. Not of that summer and things we did, just of you. As I sat there,
a breeze swept over the dunes, breathing life into the embers. I threw
some more wood onto the heat of a fire long cold.

Does a fire ever truly die?