A man and his fire

A lovely night.  All day campers arrived and the campground is almost full.  It is 11 PM.  Rick is in bed, and I am up late writing and watching Perry Mason.  From my window, I can see a fire at the second campsite over. 

An hour ago, the fire had died down and it seemed everyone had gone to bed.  Then it built up again, and I looked and saw one of the men, alone, sitting contemplatively before his fire.  A part of me wanted to join him, but as I watched, I knew this was his alone time.  Just a man, and the full moon and the quiet campground and his fire.  I even considered taking a picture of him in the reflected red light, but felt that too would be an intrusion on his privacy—he needed his private thoughts.

Later, his friend joined him.  Rick and I had walked by them earlier and they were chatty, told us the family is coming tomorrow. But tonight, this man had his time alone.  Needed time.  Time to just be and breathe and watch the fire.