As I sit here this morning enjoying the warmth of a wood fire that is keeping our house warm, it occurs to me that at the center of any home is a flame; something burning.
For the vast majority of us, tending that flame, once the core job of any family's existence, has been relegated to servantsrobots, and we have no intimate knowledge of the power we harness. On occasion we celebrate our heritage of flame by gathering in front of a fireplace, "building" a fire and witnessing the wonder.
We feed a fire "fuel", something that burns. For most of us, this fuel comes in liquid form, down a pipe from somewhere far away (gas is a liquid for purposes of this discussion). Even if a home is "all electric", somewhere it starts with a flame; even a "solar" home depends on the flame of the sun, as does, ultimately, electricity derived from water running downhill.
I am saddened by news of exmearden's death. I was blessed to know her, first as a cyberbeing, and then, for a couple of days in Austin, in the flesh, utterly smitten by love, still willing, at age 60+, to make a bit of a fool of myself.
I shall miss her light, her fire, that warmed us all.
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