The fire blazed up like a hand reaching out to grab something. The fire casted vivid light on my body as if an artist painted my body a fiery orange. A few people are still swimming in the heated pool to the left of the fire pit. A gentle breeze whips by. The smoke from the fire burns my eyes. I grab a stick off the plate and stab the tines through the middle of the marshmallow. I hang it over the tips of the flames, careful not to drop it into the fire. I slowly turned it over thinking it has to be perfect! Nice and steady… My brother, Ethan has already finished lots of s’mores. I haven’t even finished one! With my free hand, I grab a piece of chocolate and enclose it with my fingers.
Finally my s’more turned a perfect golden brown; just how I like it! I smack my now gooey, golden brown marshmallow on a gram cracker. I can hear muffled conversations in the restaurant. I open my hand. The chocolate is smeared across my hand like butter on bread. I grab a new piece of chocolate and lay it on the golden marshmallow. To top off my s’more, I put another gram cracker on the top. With the corner of my eye I sneak a peek at my brother. His mouth is rimmed with Hershey’s chocolate. He pops his last few pieces of chocolate in his mouth. He plate is empty; unlike mine.
I chomp at a corner. Whoa! This tastes amazing!!! I haven’t had a s’more this good since three years ago! MMM MMMMM… “Uuuuuh! I’m soooooooo fuuuuuullll!” my brother moans shattering my thought bubble. I devour the rest of the s’more as if I were a vacuum. A bomb of sugar explodes in my mouth! “I want another”, I declare.
That night, I ate 3 s’mores. I was stuffed after that. We went back to our fancy hotel room with two queen beds and a flat screen TV. Besides dinner, making s’mores by the fire is our only family bonding time. My brother, Ethan is playing in the game room 24/7 and Mom is knitting by the pool. Making s’mores is something we all enjoy; not something we’re forced to do.