Born in Flames

Write a memory of something you couldn't possibly remember - ie, your birth or your grandparent's wedding

On a breezy fall evening on the grounds of an old Italian cottage was the perfect setting for a fire. Not too cold, not too windy, but just enough to give the fire a purposeful existence. My relatives sat around this fire, hypnotically staring at the way the flames danced in the same way I imagine cavemen used to do. I was two at the time; the parents spoke of things that were of no concern to me. Even if I could speak Italian, the subjects they discussed weren’t meant for my ears. I was waddling around, partially interested in the fire and partially interested in everything that wasn’t the fire, but not interested in the chatter between my relatives. With one tumble, I defenselessly fell into the fire. As I was partially engulfed in flames, the chatter stopped and a single pair of hands reached in to grab me. After being non-symbolically reborn like a phoenix, I was sat on a table and inspected, almost like a doctor’s patient. They were looking for signs of injury, a burn or a wound. What they found was a single blister which they couldn’t hide from my mother. I didn’t cry at all.