Fear of Fire

The Temecula fire is still burning. I have little to no information about it (Temecula doesn't have its own local news channel) and I am not very comfortable with that state of affairs. Mikey assures me that the fire is far away and moving in the other direction, but as we drove home from the grocery store I got a direct look at the hill that is currently ablaze (as fate would have it, that just happens to be one of our vocabulary words this week) and learned something about myself. I have a vary strong, deep-seated fear of fire. The moment I saw those flames in the distance, licking at the edge of that mountain, my stomach clenched up in a ball and I had to look away.

This is somewhat of a revelation to me, as I have always enjoyed fire (while maintaining a respectful care, of course). My family regularly attended and often hosted friendly bonfire get-togethers as a kid. Who doesn't like poking the red-hot embers with a stick and making "bees" fly up into the air? I love roasting marshmallows and I find candles highly romantic. Curling up in front of a roaring fire, in the middle of the winter, with a thick fluffy blanket, a steaming cup of cocoa and a good book is one of my favorite past-times.

But those are all examples of fire under the control of humans. Wildfires, brush fires, forest fires, house fires...these are all different. These are all scary and big and strong. Fire has been around for a long, long time and although we pretend that we control it (much like we pretend to control most of this planet), it, in fact, has control over us. Fire goes where it wants, consumes what it wants and all we can do is clean up afterwards, hoping to get lucky the next time around. I guess the same can be said for just about any natural disaster.

It just so happens that fire is the natural disaster hanging around my neck of the woods today.