Sandy Supposes....

FIRE IS A FICKLE FRIEND

         I prefer to think of fire as a comforting, relaxing presence. It's wonderful to lounge next to the shape-shifting, flickering flames of a roaring campfire. Every crackle and snap echoes on smoke-laden air. Waves of warmth caress me as I'm mesmerized by reds, yellows, and blues. Glowing embers invite the toasting of gooey marshmallows and story-sharing. Ah, fire as an idyllic companion.....

         I discovered fire has a fickle side. While recovering alone, from knee surgery, at my campsite, fire turned menacing. Flames flashed without warning, the moment I opened the valve of my barbecue's propane tank. Initially, I froze.

          Time became a fluid abstract; had minutes or merely seconds skittered away as I frantically envisioned possible actions in my mind? Should I run and abandon the burning tank? Maybe I could run with the tank, but where? Trees, wood piles, vehicles, and other trailers were crowding us. Everything nearby was potential fuel. Some rational recess of my brain was silently screaming that running would only feed more oxygen to the fire.

          My sensible side was also seeing the fire grow larger and shouting, "Do something!" I stumbled into my trailer and snatched an oven mitt from the wall; a cheap, thin Dollar Store oven mitt. I momentarily tripped as I skidded back outside and pulled at the melting lines tethering the barbecue to the flaming tank. With that one protected hand, I flipped a very hot cylinder onto the ground. Every limb was pressed into action; dirt was scooped and kicked onto the flames. After a heart-pounding eternity, the flames were smothered.

          Acrid smoke enveloped me. Charred paint and oily soot settled on and around me as an elderly neighbour rushed to my side exclaiming, "my wife just hollered at me to get outside and help you. Was it a fire?" Initially, I could barely nod and flap a singed oven mitt. I could only marvel that it had been fireproof; a one-dollar purchase.

         As my laboured breathing returned to normal my knees began to protest with sharp stabs of pain and crushing aches. I collapsed onto my steps. They may usually be my nemesis, but my knees had really acted admirably. I was still mulling this miracle when my fellow camper interrupted my thoughts. "Wow, you sure reacted quickly. I don't know if I'da known what to do. Hey, you still want to cook something? You can use my barbecue." My appetite for barbecue had dissipated like the flames. A peanut butter sandwich suddenly seemed appealing; one made without toasted bread.