Warm Memory

This morning I was taking a pan of muffins out of the oven.  I set them on top of the stove and started to close the oven door.  I changed my mind and just left it open for a bit, letting the oven pour its heat out into the kitchen.  I backed up to the open door and let the heat rise up my back.  I would be hard pressed to find anything else that feels that good!

It reminded me of winters when I was growing up.  We had a floor furnace in our house.  Don't feel bad if you have no idea what that is.  I just explained it to El.  In the hallway of the bedroom end of the house, there was a metal grate in the floor.  Below that grate was a big heater.  And the grate got hot when the furnace was going.  I remember winter nights (and mornings) standing above the furnace (careful not to stand ON the furnace) in a long night gown.  The warm air would billow up the gown, ballooning it out, surrounding me with warmth.  On cold nights, it gave me a head start on warming up the bed.

When our eldest was young, we lived in a mobile home with floor vents.  I taught her the joy of standing over the vent in a long gown, too.
I can understand why floor furnaces were replaced with other heat sources.  The little boy who lived across the street from me all those years ago had a grid-pattern scar on this chest and stomach from a fall onto the hot metal.  I never thought about how dangerous my position above the furnace was until I saw what could happen if one got careless.