The Campfire that Changed Everything

Our campfire ring in beautiful Wyoming.

This was the exact spot where the longest 90 seconds of our lives took place.

It was a cool, quiet fall night in September.  Sitting around the campfire as we often do, reminiscing about life coming full circle.  In one week, we would be headed south again from Wyoming, starting year two of traveling full time. 

We reflected on the memories and emotions that past year had brought us.  The joy and happiness of getting to share new experiences with our children.   The deeper love and understanding we had for each other.  The sadness and emptiness of a place in our heart no longer filled since the passing of Andrea’s dad. 

The summer had not been what we envisioned but as with everything in life, it was destined to be this way in order for us to learn a lesson of some kind.  The questions would be if we were open to receiving it or even paying attention enough to recognize it?

Maybe we had not been.  Maybe, just maybe, we pushed too hard. 

The summer job and Pop’s passing, that ended up requiring us to split our time in three different locations.  The stress of filling in the void created by his absence. 

It could have been many things, or it could have been a not so gentle reminder from the universe of what is truly important in our world. 

As Andrea stood up to stoke the fire it happened out of nowhere.  No warning signs.  No chance to intervene or pre-empt it. 

I still get chills and flashbacks just telling this story which maybe is part of the reason it happened.   To ensure we are not on auto pilot in our own relationships.

As I sat in my chair enjoy the conversation, things suddenly changed.

Andrea collapsed.  Her knees landed on the metal fire ring.  Her upper body bent from the waist forward, face first into the fire. 

Suddenly, time stopped.

I saw her face lying on the flickering flame of the log.  Was this some kind of trick she was playing.  Perhaps a weird joke? 

She was not moving.  There was no response to the heat or flame that surrounded her head.  Something was not right.

I leapt from my chair yelling “Andrea”, reached into the fire pulling her out, while swiping out the flames that were burning the hair on the top of her head. 

Pulling her into my lap, I feared the worse.  Her eyes were wide open but showed no signs of life.  There was no response.

The darkness of the night, the speed at which everything happened, and that look have been replayed many times since in my head.  It is never any easier to process.   

I could not feel her breathing.  She was losing color, turning grey and I was fearing the worst. 

Still processing the loss of my father-in-law, I was not ready for a life without her.  It could not be time for our journey to end.  We had so much planned and so many things still to experience together. 

I gave her a first breath.  Waiting for her response my mind raced.

Our story could not be ending after one year on the road, could it?   This was her dream, our daily pursuit of those perfect days, being immersed in nature, travel, and new experiences. 

No response.  A second breath.

Wait what?  I’m not ready to do this life alone.  Our kids still need their mom.  I still need her. 

Please, please, universe I thought, let her breath.  Bring her back to us.  I can do better.  I can be better for her.  We can do better. 

Slowly she began to gurgle.  I turned her onto her side, still holding her in my lap and encouraged her to come back.  “Breath baby, breath” was all I could say as I watched life start to come back into her eyes. 

The gurgle got louder, followed by a couple coughs, and then she was back with a look of confusion and bewilderment on her face. 

“What are you doing” in a stern voice was the first thing she said to me.  With tears flowing down my cheeks, I gently stroked her face, overwhelmed with happiness to feel the warmth returning to her skin. 

Then she told me in no uncertain terms to get off of her, unaware of the kind of chaos the last 90 seconds had brought to my life. 

Suffering from burns to the top of her head, inside both knees, forehead and most seriously on her left eyelid perilously close to her eye, I still felt blessed to have her back with me. 

An hour drive to the closest emergency room seemed like forever.  Not knowing what caused this, I had to implore her to stay awake on the drive for fear of what would happen should she sleep. 

Thankfully the staff in Spearfish, SD, were excellent and they were having a slow night, so we got right in.

After all the tests were run, the story was retold a thousand times, they concluded she was dehydrated and fainted. 

Nothing more serious health wise.  In their terms “people faint all the time, you just happened to do it into a fire”. 

With that we returned back to the Queen to nurse Andrea’s wounds, reflect on the blessings our lives truly are, and with an appreciation for how quick it can all change. 

Now that we are out on the road again, three months into year two we are more grounded.  More aware and in tune that the universe is always working in our favor if we slow down enough to see it. 

Even in the craziness of this situation, there is so much to be thankful for. 

Andrea could have been much more badly injured.  I could have been injured going into the fire, yet somehow, I did not even get a singed hair.  The medical prognosis could have been much worse.

We sit in gratitude watching that new sunrise.  The amazement of tonight’s sunset is renewed.  The blue of the sky is more vibrant.  The birds chirping is a story we want to hear over and over. 

Our friendships have a deeper meaning.  Conversations can take as long as they need, we have time.  Smiles exchanged with strangers are worth more than money.  No hurry here, life is going by fast enough!

Strangely, this incident, which we would never want to repeat, has brought us peace.  Peace in knowing everything we need to be happy in life is right here in front of us.

If you see Andrea around, with her back to the sun, wearing a hat or sunglasses on days you wouldn’t, understand it’s part of the healing process.

Healing her new skin and healing our hearts that for a few moments wondered if we would even have this time together again. 

Tonight, there is a good chance you will find us sitting around another campfire listening to stories of friends new or old. 

Maybe it will be just the two of us staring at the stars grateful to make another memory.

Either way there will be smiles on our faces and joy in our heart, knowing this is our life together!

See you all down the road or hopefully by a campfire sometime soon.

Andrea’s progression and healing from the fire through Thanksgiving 2022.