Fireplaces

A little something I wrote in writing the other day; rather than have it go to waste, I decided to publish it on here (it was the result of an assignment that I didn't understand the question, but luckily I read the question again and I can re-do it now). So here it is:

“There’s something about fires—and specifically fireplaces—that I will always hold dear to my heart; I never knew something so primitive could instill so much joy in me, as it has for millions of people over thousands of years in the past. I’m finding more and more as every subsequent day passes that it seems to be the small things in life that mater the most, and seem to take the pace of life by the reigns just long enough for you to step back and enjoy it for a few seconds.”
I remember parting with the property my parents swore to live on for the rest of their lives, going on a long, solitary, walk covering almost the whole section of property and giving me plenty of time to reflect on my boyhood. I came upon one of my favorite spots on the property, with a hidden view that I discovered when I was eight years old and that remains one of my treasured secrets to the best of my knowledge. I climbed up the tree and simply gazed out over the view for what must have been hours, soaking up every little detail of the natural beauty that surrounded me. I knew that I would be moving to suburbia, with the distance in between my neighbor’s houses going from two miles as the bird flies to two yards at best. But I tried not to let that bother me, as I erased unnecessary thoughts from my memory and started over with a blank slate and recording each and every sensation, not letting an ounce of information escape. And as a result of this, I have one of the most vivid memories of my life, too much information to express through writing, through art, even through a movie—its true and uncompromised expression accessible only to the mind of the boy who wasn’t ready to let go.