Something about sitting around a campfire with moonlight and starlight streaking down. With a lovely whiskey and good friends, there is perfection. I did that.
I had friends – loved ones – around a fire. Relationships deepened. Laughs were had. I became a marshmallow hero. It was beautiful, in that imperfect, not profound kind of way.
All I did was sit around a campfire with some people, some could say. But my love for them deepened. And I could convey a million words in simply holding my good friends hand and watching the fire burn the past.