The fire is dying down, the last ambers glow bright red as residual heat bathes the room. The iron stove, the only source of warmth in the refuge, will remain hot for a while after its content have extinguished.
Right there, at this fading light moment, the ghosts usually arrive. Good ghosts, bad ghosts, but ghosts nonetheless. The memories of things past, and the memories of those we cared about. Sounds of the last vestiges of wood, crackles and sparks give the perfect soundtrack for things past.
Ghosts often cause a smile, as memory brings sights, sounds, and smells of things full of light and life. Some ghosts, however, bring the unbearable pain and regrets of things that were not right, of things that will not longer have light, of things that gave way to painful reflection.
Both ghosts come together. Visits from the heart and the soul. It is hard sometimes to separate them, enabling dread to mix with peaceful solitude.
Welcome the ghosts. Understand their lessons. Let the fire die down and rest. Refresh the spirit with their voices. Be happy, and be sad. Don’t fight it. Let it flow through you.