Come sit by the fire

Come sit by the fire. We often didn't need to talk, our silence spoke volumes, he was in my head, I in his. We would talk about the days gone by, of people who had been in our lives and now were gone, we would reminiss about the "good old days" we would marvel about our lives now, dream about all the tomorrows and what they would bring. Our Saturday night fires would bring family and friends together, it was a warm time, a welcoming time. As the fire started to turn to embers Bryon would often see faces, familiar faces in the glowing coals, it brought him peace, that made me happy. This was our time, all the clocks stopped, the moments lasted forever.

Feel free to pull up a chair and sit by the fire.