again.

I remember the first time.  Driving through ash and fear towards something that might resemble safety.  Mourning the loss of buildings and innocence.  Celebrating the persistence of life.

The second time.  Raining ash and clouds of smoke.  Accomplishment and celebration drowned in a chorus of fear and smoke and ominous orange glow.

This time the ash mixes with the fog, settling down over a sleeping city as that familiar orange glow burns in the distance.  Safety is guaranteed, but fear seeps in through the cracks and settles into the neglected corners.

I'm learning what it means to be refined by fire.

To be cleansed by the flame.