My father gave me a flamethrower, but it gave me the safest feeling of my life.
On my twenty-fourth birthday, my father didn’t give me a cake. Instead, he handed me a heavy toolbox. Inside, there weren’t ordinary tools, but an industrial-grade flamethrower.
“This is…” ？” I froze, with various intense scenes from movies flashing through my mind.
He looked at me, his eyes showing no hint of joking: “This is the last lesson I’m teaching you – how to ‘play with fire’ properly.”
My father was an old-fashioned engineer who believed that all power should be respected rather than feared. That afternoon, he didn’t immediately light it. First, he took me to the backyard, pointing out an empty patch of cement, a bucket of water, a fire extinguisher and a pair of thick leather gloves.
“Rule one,” he said, “always respect the power in your hands, rather than be afraid of it.”
He taught me to inspect every interface, put on every piece of protective gear, and plan the path of the flames and the evacuation route. He asked me to repeat three times: “I control the fire, not the other way around.”
When I finally lit it, that roaring blue fire dragon didn’t make me feel like a destroyer. Instead, I felt an unprecedented sense of control. A complete confidence in mastering danger within strict boundaries. We used it to burn the stubborn wild grass piles in the yard, light the old lanterns that we wouldn’t dare to throw away even during the New Year, and he even taught me how to perfectly grill a steak with it.
At that moment, I understood. What he gave me was not a dangerous weapon, but a key.
He was telling me in the most extreme way: True “safety” is not about avoiding all dangers. Instead, it’s about having the ability to assess risks, prepare adequately, and confidently take control of them.
Nowadays, whenever I encounter those terrifying “fires” in life – a new career challenge, a relationship that needs to be maintained, an anxious future – I always think of that afternoon.
I will stop, prepare my “fire prevention measures”, define my safety boundaries, then, take a deep breath, confidently ignite my flame, and move forward.
Because what he taught me was never about how to play with fire.
What he taught me was how to walk through life bravely and safely.