Every fire needs kindling in order to light. It needs something small to start the flames, a strong basis on which to grow. Once that kindling is put into place, the fire can do one of two things. The fire can either go out, or it can catch on the bigger logs and lead to something blazing, warm and exciting. The same goes for a relationship. Every relationship, even friendships, needs to have that basic kindling as well if it is going to grow to become stronger. I just hope that for our friendship, the kindling is something like trust or compassion, not a ripped up playing cards box.

I looked up at him as we stood over the cobblestone fire pit. He looked like he was deep in thought, arms crossed, and deep blue eyes misty and staring into the pit. I am not really sure how to build a fire, I have never done it before, but I do not want him to know this. I know that he has done this before; it is one of the things I love about him, his knowledge of the outdoors. After about two minutes of silence I break it.
“How can I help you with the fire?” I ask

He looks up at me as if he forgot I was there. “Uhm, can you find some dead leaves or something else I can use for kindling?”

“Yeah, no problem.” I say and I start looking around the wooded area where we are camped.
I hear the crunch of dead leaves from under my feet with each step I take. I reach down and pick up a handful of them. I love the color of dead leaves, the bright oranges, crisp browns, and fading yellows. I bring them back to where he’s standing and start to lay them down in the fire pit.
“Will you just put them in a pile next to it?” He says stopping me in my tracks.

I do as I am told and wait for my next direction. He leans down and starts to pick up small twigs off the ground. I follow his lead, wondering why he only wanted the small ones. He walked back to the fire pit and leaned down, but stood right back up.

“It’s too damn hot.” He said and he started to unzip the pant legs off of his olive green zip off pants.

He was wearing a sunshine yellow button up camping shirt. It even had a mesh vent built into it presumably so that he did not over heat. It was not working because he still looked pretty hot to me. The vent was placed in the perfect spot so you could see the single mole on his back. I must say that if a mole could be described as adorable, this mole would be.

“Nice shirt.” I said

“Haha thanks, my mom got it for me. At first I was like mom why would you buy a shirt this color, but its growing on me.” He replied still trying to pull his left detached pant leg over his sandal.
“I like the color.” I replied, seeing him struggling.

I walked over to him and he put his hand on my shoulder, using me to steady himself. I looked down at his tanned calves and smiled; glad I was able to help him. He finally got the one leg off and then unzipped the other one, his grip on my shoulder tightening as he stood on one leg trying to pull the other one off. He finally got it off and threw them both onto his backpack. He let go of me and leaned back down over the fire pit.

“Will you hand me those leaves now?” he asked.

I handed them too him and he placed them down in the center of the pit. I handed him the twigs I had found and he started to assemble them in what looked like a tipi like structure around the leaves. I watched him arrange the twigs in such precision, like the placement was a matter of life or death.

“Let me know when you are ready for a match.” I said patting the box that was rattling around in my pocket.

“I think I’m ready now.” He replied.

I fumbled the box out of my pocket and handed him the matchbook. He opened it, picked out a match, and then handed the box back to me.
“Don’t you need the box to strike the match on?” I asked

“No need.” he said, and he ran the red tip of the match against his finger tip. It lit immediately, a brilliant display of dancing orange light. I watched amazed as he dropped it onto the tipi he had created. The leaves lit for a moment and then the flame extinguished, leaving a trail of smoky disappointment in its wake.

“How did you do that?” I asked in utter surprise and admiration.

He looked up at me from his squatting position over the fire pit and shrugged at me, responding simply with “Guitar.”

I handed him another match and watched him light it again. After he dropped the match he put his hands up to the mouth creating a diamond like shape with his fingers. He then blew steadily into the diamond. The flames that the match had started were now spreading thanks to his blowing. The flames had now left the leaves and caught onto the twigs.

We both turned around and found some bigger pieces of wood. After placing those onto the fire he went back to blowing into his diamond. The embers started blowing into his face. One caught onto his eyebrow, but he just kept blowing. I ran over to him, knocking it away with my thumb. He stopped blowing and I grabbed his cheeks forcing him to look up at me to make sure he was not burnt. His normally brown eyelashes were now singed and had a touch of ash caught in the hairs. I let my hands linger there for a moment, just staring into his eyes.
I finally let go and sat down next to him on the log we had position just next to the fire. We gazed into the blazing fire. We didn’t talk, but just listened to the crackling of the fire and the hooting of an owl in the distance. As the heat washed over me I wondered to myself if it was the fire, or his presence that was making me feel so hot. As we sat there I realized that I needed this friendship in my life, and if our fire ever went out, or if the kindling did not catch, then I would be nothing, just a pile of embers left smoking out forever.