Marshmallows and the meaning of life
The campfire crackles and spits sparks into the black night sky and I watch as the tiny orange dots float up, up, toward the silvery moon and stars, like little fireflies lilting and meandering and then silently disappearing in the distance. Not more than 15 feet away in the pitch darkness of the woods, the shallow river continues to course along, never stopping its constant chatter as it splashes and bubbles over rocks and pebbles. Earlier in the day we had fished in that river, and had caught nothing more than a pretty good sunburn and some scratches on our legs as proof of our mile-long hike through the forest in search of the perfect fishing hole. We know there are big red Salmon in the river because we saw them today, in the pools, casually ignoring our fishing lines. Tonight we listen as these fish splash and flipper their way over the shallow rocks, continuing their journey from the ocean back to the waters of Idaho, where they will spawn and die. It is a magical sound during a magical moment in the life of these creatures and we are there to bear witness.
The four of us huddle against the fire, our faces aglow in the flickering orange light of the flames. At times, it is completely quiet, except for the popping of the fire and the murmurings of the river and I feel amazingly alive. Each of us holds a long, skinny stick that we scrounged from the nearby brush and will use to spear marshmallows. There is something mesmerizing about roasting a marshmallow over a fire and watching the fluffy whiteness gradually take on a tan, or letting a marshmallow catch fire, for only just a moment, and then blowing out the flames before it gets too crispy. My friends and I hold our sticks over the flames and discuss the most desirable way to toast the fat, white ball of sticky sugar. I go for the fast and crispy, my camp mates decide on the slow and steady. One after another after another, we toast and flambé our marshmallows until we can eat no more. I wonder if roasting marshmallows could be a metaphor for the way we live our lives?
Surely, during 2010 I have eaten food that was more memorable, more delectable, more filling and certainly healthier for me. But, this marshmallow moment fed my soul. It wasn’t just about what went into my mouth, but rather, what filled my ears, my eyes, and my spirit that weekend. It was friendships, nature, and a peaceful night’s sleep under the twinkling stars. It was the rhythmic toss of a fishing line, the musty green smell of the deep woods, and the mist that had settled over the river in the crisp early morning. It was being alive and free to sit near a fire while fish splashed, friends laughed and my dog slept at my feet. Marshmallows are my reminder to appreciate the sweet, simple goodness that life is all about.
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I’m participating in a month-long blogging challenge called Reverb10 during which I am posting a response to a writing prompt from 31 different authors. The goal of the exercise is to reflect on 2010 and set goals for 2011. Today’s prompt – Soul food. What did you eat this year that you will never forget? What went into your mouth & touched your soul?
