The haze of my past seems to engulf me tonight as I think about my next chapter in life. My spirit echoes within the confines of nostalgia as I meander down the path of my history. It seems like just yesterday when the clanging bell of the fire station sent my pulse racing. The racing thrill of riding the red engine, the weight of the gear on my shoulders, the primal fear of the flickering, licking flames, and the exhilaration of saving lives—that all-encompassing sensory overload is etched into every fiber of my being. Firefighting—it’s a tough gig, no doubt, but for a woman, it carried extra baggage. The scrutiny,…