Fire scares the heck out of me.

Watching the news on all the California fires makes one realize a little snow the last couple of days isn’t so bad. It is melting fast and we need the moisture. Fire, tho, scares me. I have a hard time even being around bonfires, especially when little ones are present.  You see when I was a teenager, I caught myself on fire. We had a very small kitchen in the house I grew up in. It wasn't  an eat-in kitchen, but we did have a two person little table to have coffee at or eat a bowl of cereal at. But mostly it was for counter space next to the stove. One wall, stove and table, one wall sink below a window and bit of cupboards and counter, one wall refrigerator and a very small bit of counter and the last wall a bit of blank wall and the door to the basement. Two people made it crowded.  Now that you have the kitchen layout you will understand why I was easy to catch myself on fire. I came home school to find Mom sick in bed. I was to start supper. I, also, had a rolling skating date that night. So being the multitasker even back then, I decided to polish my nails while watching the meat brown. I leaned against the table that sat right next to the stove and began to polish my nails. Oh, I had on one of my dad’s white shirts with the long tails, very popular in the late fifties, early sixties. As you probably have figured out by now, the darn shirt caught on fire. That wouldn’t have been so bad, except I forgot the drop and roll rule and went running through the house to my mom’s room. She immediately threw the blanket she had on around me. But the damaged had been done. Only thing I could wear for a few days was my nightgown. And I remember asking “Does this mean I can’t go skating tonight?” Dumb but I think I must have been in pain and shock. So that is why I hate being around open fire any kind and feel for anyone that has severe burns. End of story.