Volcano

The hell fire of the volcano swirled and popped sending plumbs of molten lava into the air, spitting like a boiling pot of soup. It was so unearthly that in the moment it elicited little emotional response. Only when the truck turned and the view was lost did she feel the breath extinguish and the knees jelly. It was the remarkableness of the moment and the loss caused by the shock that made her ache to return. She wanted the emotional response; she needed it in a way she couldn't explain. She cursed her own humanness and her ability to diminish the impact. She wanted to live it again, smell the seer of the fire and feel immersed in the heat. She wanted to see again the explosion of nature at it's finest and most brutal. She could close her eyes and see the jagged imprint of the rocks and the lava glowing with the brilliance that reminded her of stolen glances at the sun. The sulfur and burn lingered. She could smell it faintly on her clothes like sleep.