There have been a spate of fires lately. Some are ignited by natural causes, and others from human error. They all burn just as hot. 

 

I decided to point my anxiety into action, and went to the hardware store. A bold move, I know. The fire extinguisher that was in the house when we bought it has stood patiently in the corner, presumably ready to rescue us. But I decided to stop presuming, and bought a new one. I also put four alarms in my basket, three for smoke and one for carbon monoxide. Not that I know more about the latter than how to spell it. 

 

It lowers my heart rate a notch to have them installed now, should the need arise. Which, God willing, it won't. 

 

Years ago I printed sheets of little pictures of fire extinguishers, as a hand out for a marriage event. I invited people to cut them up, and write a reminder on the back. It could be some sweet memory of their partner, or an attribute they appreciate about them. Then they could put them in places where they might run across them, just as an ember of resentment flared up. 

 

I did this as well, and it was uncanny. Right when an annoyance about John got hot, I would reach in my pocket and find one. 
 

"He wrote the song Arise."

 

Whew, appreciation for that gorgeous piece doused the angst pretty quick. 

 

Another day I was tapping my toes in the car waiting for John, when I saw the small paper I had left between the seats. 

 

"He drove three daughters to see Wicked on Broadway, and waited in the parking lot."

 

The thing about small fires is, just a cup of water can overtake them.