Playing With Fire

Literally.

I built a fire in the chiminea this afternoon.  It has been set up on the deck for months but we hadn't used it yet this season.  Bad weather and mosquitoes have not made the deck an inviting place this summer.

This afternoon started clear and reasonably calm.  I was feeling ambitious.  I wanted to feel competent at something I haven't done in awhile, and it has been years since I've built a fire.  It took several attempts because even kindling and wood kept under cover was damp.  I knew I was on the right track because there was smoke even though leaves, twigs, and bark wouldn't stay lit.  I kept at it, adding smaller and smaller pieces that might take fire.  It took about a half hour....

Then success.  I carefully added larger pieces of wood as the fire took hold.  What a feeling of accomplishment.  I enjoyed the warmth of that fire for quite awhile today.

I need more of that. 

The thing about being rejected for so many jobs in the last five years is that I'm not sure what I'm good at any more, outside the house.

I know I'm good at house stuff.  I have been spending a lot of time in the kitchen since T has been home, and it feels good to be cooking for more than Ken and me on a regular basis.  Closets are decluttered and organized.  I have updated the scrapbooks and photo albums.  Projects get done, always with more to do. 

Building the fire was symbolic.  I don't expect that I will need to build a fire to survive.  I do, however, need to know that I can take care of myself.  I am at a point in my life where I want to be recognized for what I know and what I can do.  It feels odd that I need to convince myself and others that I am capable, that I have things to say that deserve to be heard, but that's how I feel.  This is beyond me knowing that I am a valuable being, because I believe that....

I feel compelled to do more, to fill in the places that feel empty.