It was a chilly day today, and even a chillier night. So I decided to give my grandson his first fire. It has become and Autumn tradition with me to start an inaugural fire in our fireplace for my grandchildren. Every new grandchild born, is introduced to his or her first fire when Fall rolls around. Their very own, just for them. It's not something I planned, it just sort of worked out that way. At least it didn't start that way, it has evolved into a tradition. I will tell you now, that I have celebrated this tradition far to many times for a man my age, but I wouldn't trade it for all the money in the world. There are few things I look forward to more than The Lighting of the Hearth. For me it rivals the smell of Turkey roasting on Thanksgiving, or the scent of pine needles on Christmas morning. Surprisingly, everyone looks forward to it. My wife, even my children who are well into their twenties, get excited. Each grandchild is fascinated as I place the logs and mesmerized as the flames grow into a glowing ball of warmth. I remember every expression on every face. They sit on my knee and, silently listening to the crackle of the wood. I don't know how long we sit there, but I know it is a fleeting moment in time that seems to last forever. If you don't know how those two opposites can exist at the same time, then I hope someday you will. And if you do, well, then you do.
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