This Sunday

"Some monuments from our youthful years don't last forever. Physical structures have finite lives but our memories continue for a bit longer."

After the wreckage was finally hauled away, we felt a special ceremony was called for, so we cleared a large patch of ground directly under where the tree fort stood. We re-lived a boyhood tradition of making a one-match fire using birch bark, dry hemlock and wood shavings. Soon the cozy fire's warmth spread comfort around our damp circle. The smoky scents of pine needles and wet ground blended in a wonderful woodland aroma. The fire blazed quickly as we added broken pieces of the tree fort in our homage to an earlier age.
 The afternoon was now long past and the early evening's moisture-laden air was still and quieting. Even our sense of time felt suspended. We added more piees of the tree fort to the fire and watched a thick blanket of smoke surround us, spreading throughout the woods. It hung like a low ceiling in the darkening night sky.

Like sacred incense, we imagined the smoke was lifting the tree fort's spirit upward, carrying it to everything around us.

We shared no remorse or regrets for we knew this was the way it should be...respect for what came before. When the last wisp of smoke had died out, we stirred the embers with sand and whispered our silent goodbyes.”