Life Is Good. Really Good.

A late-night fire with friends is a balm for the soul

Our faces glowed red from the heat radiating from the small fire we huddled around. Bundled in layers of cotton and wool, we slowly scooted in closer to the flames as the night deepened and the air temperature dropped. A thought brushed across my mind, This could be twenty thousand years ago in front of a cave, except for the Pinot Grigio in petite tumblers in the hands of my close friends.

The giant Doug Fir trees at the edge of the forest to the north of us were lit by flickers of golden light, our shadows dancing every-which-way on the trunks. Our voices ebbed and flowed between laughter and pensive silence as we asked each other questions of life and held space for the answers. After a year of learning what being alone really means, the fire felt like medicine, the conversation - a balm.

It was not unlike the slumber parties I had with other childhood friends, laying in sleeping bags in a tent in our parent's backyard, giggling the night away when we were eight years old. I found it so strange that all these years later, some of the same themes are still bobbing around: self-doubt, what to do when we grow up, dreams. 

And the predominant everlasting theme, even now - in the words of my exasperated wine-sipping dear hearts - is "Men." I consider them both experts since they are in long-term relationships and I am not. 

There was a long pause. The forest was intensely quiet and still, except for the fire crackling. A primal sense of knowing washed through me. Like I had been here before, eons ago, and the men were all fast asleep in the cave, while we women sat outside, pondering the duality, comedy, and tragedy of love. How is it that we humans find ourselves on this planet of polarities for so many thousands of years and still can't figure out how to see heart-to-heart? It's one of the great mysteries of the universe, I suppose. Opposites do, in fact, attract. 

I revel in my singleness. My life is so good, and I am content and happy most of the time - much to the dismay of mainstream culture, which trains us to think something is wrong if we are this age and happy alone. 

But last night, around the fire, I wondered if I'm missing out on something no words can describe. You catch glimpses of it when lovers flick their eyes at each other in silent communication at a party, and they both just know. No language needed. I remember when I had that, how comforting and safe it felt to have one person in the world who knows me like that. Someone to see me in every shade of humanness and still be there in the morning. And the next…and the next. 

My friend filled the tumblers with more wine, then her voice cut the night and shook me from my reverie, "So, how are things in your life?"

"Good. Really good." I meant it.

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(Photo by Nathan Lindahl on Unsplash)