Jonesboro, Arkansas

Today was the first day I wore sandals. Well, this season. With my tan lines still present from last fall, the faded orange bands of my Chaco's fit right into the pale routes mapped across the tops of my feet. It's a good feeling. One of many that set the tone of an approaching summer.

I enjoyed them for three hours before singeing the tops of my feet, leaving them a hint more red than the sun could have provided this afternoon. Fire.

There was a fire burning the brush on the side of the two lane highway that led me into Arkansas; a twisting road constantly rising and falling. Paired with clouds setting in on early evening it wasn't the most calming drive. In fact, it was down right terrifying. I was having flashbacks of a 3am drive into Wisconsin with two of my brothers. Sitting shotgun, my sole job had been to provide warnings of oncoming deer from either side of the road. Though this time, driving solo, my fears are less deer and more running out of gas or blowing a tire in these switchback roads where wandering would likely only get me into trouble. My eyes may have been just a tad wider this time. Especially upon seeing the flames.

I assume this was a controlled fire. I can't be sure. There was no image of flames growing, or a small spark. There was just darkness and then there was light. I drove on, hugging the yellow line and watching for headlights- hoping for headlights, from either direction. 2 miles passed and the flames were still burning evenly. Distractingly bright. 3 more miles. I felt as a bug to light. Engaged.

A mile further I saw a break on the far side of the road. I pulled into the entry of a gravel driveway and get out of the van. The radio was still on, the engine still running, my door still open. And I found myself just standing staring into the fire, feeling it's warmth on my face and arms. I find myself thinking of a rare family moment near a fireplace feigning Christmas merriment. Thinking of the hot tub suite I found myself enjoying while watching Olympic men's figure skating. Thinking of my sunburned feet from last summer.

I looked down and the ground was smoking around my feet. The radio program had ended and was fading into static. A shadowy figure appeared at the last bend, slowly and methodically shoveling the flames, overturning the burning plants. I got back into the van and drove away. Because I've seen far too many horror movies to know that many creepy things happening at once can only mean a leprechaun is about to appear, or some innocent looking serial killer looking for a ride to the nearest bus stop. And that story never ends too well.