The cold December night is silent around me as I near the firepit. The cold nips at me but I am too quick. Everyone’s voices begin to reach me as I take a seat in the circle.The red heat flickers in front of my face. My hands near the flames and I let the warmth begin to soak into me. Through my hands and up my arms. I can hear everyone beside me. I can hear them talking, singing, joking with each other. I wrap myself in them, in their stories, their laughter, their happiness. I sit there and I feel the warmth, it fills my shoulders and my chest. The creepy cold of the night can’t catch me here. The warmth makes its way up my neck and down my torso. I can feel it on my face and in my feet. I can feel it everywhere, it surrounds me and I never want it to stop. It weaves its way through me, twisting and turning like a car on a country road. I’m sitting in the cold but I am warm. I’m sitting there and I am the fire. I am movement and air and flame. The warmth is all over now, it is me and I am it.  Nothing can find me here, nothing can drag me back into the dark and freezing night, not in this moment. This is where I belong, these people are my family and they care about me. They love me and they mean everything to me. They are my home and I never want to leave this moment. I want it to hang here, like my hot breath in this cold night air, forever. I want it to be the beat before the applause at a show; I want it to be that split second that seems to go on for decades. I want this warmth to last and somehow I know it will. In this moment the flames are warm, my heart is warm, I am warm.