In Coffee Spoons

...is on fire.

Actually, it's been raining since last night, so maybe it isn't anymore.

But yesterday was all fire. Big plumes of smoke out towards Grayling, fire engines on our road for the first time since I don't remember when, I-75 all over the news.

When I was seven, there was a similar forest fire, close enough to our house that we started piling things in the car in case of evacuation. Mom was packing up photo albums and heirlooms and things. I had my little red Snoopy suitcase. Pretty much the only thing I remember grabbing, in dire fear of losing, was my little plastic Big Bird. I have no idea why. It wasn't my favorite toy or anything.

It's a weird memory, the more I think about it. I remember seeing the sky full of flames, but that's not possible. It didn't end up actually coming that close. I think I remember translating the sunset into fire, because the purpose of a child's imagination is to torture that child.

Anyway. This is gettling all rambly and disjointed and all I really intended was to let anyone downstate who's watching the news know that I'm not on fire.