A friend turns twenty-two, and celebrates with a small gathering of old friends.

We burn a large pile of dry brush, inside of a circle of stones. The heat sends all of us a few steps backwards, for a moment. The flames are taller than we are.

We carefully throw an old Christmas tree onto the pile and watch the flames double in highth and width, for a few moments. It is breathtaking and beautiful and we are all extremely pleased.

When the flames die down, we roast marshmallows over the coals. I roast two of them on the end of a twisted piece of grapevine that is longer than I am tall, because the heat is still intense.

Someone is playing music through a bluetooth speaker. Also, there is a bubble gun or two, because this is a party for Adults.

For some of us, this is the first time we’ve had a chance to actually talk, since… it’s been a fucking long time. So as the sun goes down behind the trees, we talk. About what we’re doing with our lives, about the world, about history and science and religion. We also gossip to no end.

We’re different now that we were in high school. We’ve grown – up, and out, and over the edge, and across the water.

We’ve all learned an unexpected thing or two about ourselves. We’ve seen horrible things, and tried to come to grips with how awful the world can be. We’ve experienced things so beautiful it hurts. We’ve gone on adventures. We have fucking tried new things. We’ve worked and rested, laughed and cried, gotten lost, and figured things out in time.

We’ve all loved and lost, and it shows. It really does.

And now we’re here around the campfire, eating chips and talking about All Of The Gay Things. And it’s fucking lovely.

I drove home smelling like a campfire, and I couldn’t stop smiling inside.

I hope it’s a good night.