Demons On My Sleeve

There are a lot of things I hate in this world. Before you shoot off on a tirade about the severity of the word “hate”, I mean it.

But of all the things I hate, I hate the expiration of a dear relationship the most.

The obvious and definitely simple retort is then, why the expiration? Yet as we all know, matters of the heart (relationships are absolutely matters of the heart if not the only matters of the heart) are nearly always the most complicated entities we shall ever endeavor.

When I was a young girl, we used to “burn papers.” Simply explained, my household delineated between paper trash and garbage trash. The garbage was put out once a week and collected by men on dump trucks. But the paper stuff, tissues, boxes, and other packaging, was collected and burnt in a burn barrel by us kids.

When this chore was mine to do, I didn’t care for walking around the house and emptying bedroom and bathroom trashcans into a master bag. Mostly because the master bag was usually 6 master bags.

I hated making multiple trips from the back door to burn barrel. But if I tried my best to take them all in one trip, I nearly always left a trail of debris behind me.

Yet when the collection was done and the papers placed accordingly in the barrel (there is an art form to this, or else you can prevent a fire by packing the trash too tightly before it ever begins), the fun began.

There were different strokes for different folks. Usually though, you struck the match and best as you could, reached into the core of the pile and started lighting the corners of separate pieces working your way to the outside of the pile.

My favorite part… watching a spark turn into a blazing flame. I always loved this part. It was an accomplishment.

Some days, it was as simple as striking the match.

However, more often than not, you needed to shield the spark from the gusty wind. You would contort your body around the barrel to safeguard the flame from the element which would destroy its fragile existence until the fire could grow sufficiently. On blustery days, you would strike, protect, watch it grow, watch it extinguish, 'rinse and repeat.'

Or the rain would barrage against the barely ignited scraps and then you were met with the finite equation between using your body as an umbrella and getting out of the way in time to not get scorched. Soon it became a game. Could you get this fire going in under three matches? The equation changed according to the intensity of the downpour.

Occasionally, the equation for fire was just plain against you. The paper was all boxes and not enough “kindling.” You hoped there were dried leaves around to gather. You hoped for anything to make it work.

Still again, my favorite part… watching a spark turn into a blazing flame. I always loved this part. It was an accomplishment.

Thus a relationship is born and evolves. I love meeting someone new and feeling the first magical ember ignite. I love cultivating the combustion into a smoldering glow then eventually into a blazing affinity.

Some relationships come as easy as striking a match, though I daresay most require a tempered, persistent fortifying.

We had to mind the fire through its apex but usually could leave shortly thereafter. I didn’t realize I was turning my back on one of life’s greatest lessons. It’s what happened next which breaks my heart.

I spent many a day making fires and have given little thought to what my hard work yielded. I’m nearly three decades into this thing and have struck the match more times than I can count both metaphysically and metaphorically.

But I know this.

Without going into detail, when the wind or the rain prevails and I have started the fire multiple times only to see it extinguished right in front of my eyes, when there is nothing I can do to prevent the suffocation, or when my tears have only added to its extinguishment… well there is nothing I HATE more in this world than watching the flames die out.

My heart will forever break for each and every time at the expiration of a dear relationship. And I hate feeling like I'm out of matches.