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To Build A Fire

Grandpa built a fire tonight.  The whole production–newspaper, kindling, real matches.

And my kids watched in reverence.

They hovered over my dad as he crumpled paper.  They crouched when he crouched.  Got in his way when he stood.  And they stared with him at the rising of the flames as it crinkled the kindling.

It might have been another routine fire for my dad.

But for my kids, the warmth of this one started on the inside.


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