Iron Grate in the Ashes

A heavy cast-iron cooking grate lay tilted off its rusted ring, jammed sideways into a mound of old gray ash. I stopped before it, tilting my head slightly as the cold evening air gathered around the stones. Planting both boots firmly into the damp dirt, I bent down and gripped the soot-stained bars with two hands. With slow, unyielding downward force, I shoved through the compacted cinder. The rusted crossbar scraped against the stone perimeter before dropping heavily into the level notches. The grate sits flat over the charcoal bed now, entirely still in the dark.