smoke fire burn
I've been meaning to update for ages, and I know I never comment any more, but I do read everyone's posts and hope you're all doing ok. I'm offering one of those Amnesty things - if you're fed up with me being a shitty LJer, defriend away.
I'm a bit of a wreck right now, because I couldn't fall asleep until 3, and then woke up at 7:30 faintly smelling smoke and wondering if someone was burning leaves. When I heard sirens, I didn't connect it, and when they came closer and closer, I started wondering if someone nearby needed an ambulance. I realized I was also grumpy because of the fucking loud noise, since I had a headache brewing, and then thwacked myself for being petty (someone else needs emergency medical care, but my headache matters more!), so I said a quick prayer for them and hopped to the window to see what was up.
Nothing wakes you up faster than seeing four fire trucks lined up outside your front door, with one more pulling up in a big hurry.
I started screaming for Noah, who was waking up s-l-o-w-l-y and not sure why I was making such a big fuss. I told him to throw some clothes on and come on already because something was on fire and it was probably nearby and please could he move it.
He rubbed at his eyes, pulled on a t-shirt and jeans, and we thumped out onto the sidewalk.
The townhouse next to ours - next, adjoining, sharing a wall - had thick orange flames pouring out of its second-story windows.
My heart stopped. Someone with a walkie-talkie came over to ask us if we knew who lived there. A Middle Eastern couple, with two small kids, I offered, and Noah corrected me. They moved out a few months ago. Do you know who lives there now? No. I shivered and felt guilty for never meeting them. Is everyone out of your house? Yes, I nodded, and then stopped. The cats? Should we - did we need to? He shook his head, said it should be fine, and walked away.
I wanted to send Noah back in for them. I wanted to run and grab Bella and hold her close to my heart. I wanted to clutch Noah's shirt in my fists and make sure he didn't step through that doorway.
There's a fire break every few townhouses, a thick concrete wall. This is the only reason our home is intact. Nothing burned, we're all fine, everything is safe. After about fifteen minutes standing in the early dawn air, the man with a walkie-talkie came back and told us we could go inside, it was all over - although we should probably stay on the first floor. We waited for another ten, just to be sure - long enough for the man who lives next door to arrive, in shock, and verify that no one else was home - and went back in.
There was a light haze of smoke in the air, and everything smelled like sulfur. And without knowing why, I grabbed the phone and called my mom. I barely choked out a "Did I wake you up?" before dissolving into tears, big gulping sobs that made me shake all over. It didn't help my headache any.
Mom sat with me on the phone and did the Mom thing - are you okay, sweetheart, can I help, it's all right, calm down - and I felt stupid for falling apart when everything was okay. I think it's the adrenaline. I think it's the panic. I think it's the shock.
I watch my cats prowl the apartment - calmer now, they were nervous earlier, since they could smell the smoke and hear all of the thumping loud noises, but they seem to know that everything has stopped - and I feel a huge wave of guilt. I didn't grab them and haul them into the car. I didn't go back for them. I was terrified.
If it had been worse, Noah says he would have gone back in. I think I would have stopped him, that clutching raw fear grabbing at my throat and insisting the fire couldn't have him. And yet. My babycats, who I love so much it hurts. I can't even look at them. How can I?
My head throbs, my eyes burn, and everything still smells like smoke. I can't go back to sleep. I think I'm too scared. I know it's all over, and we're safe, and everything is okay, but I keep seeing those flames lick greedily at the walls and I shiver.
I'm a bit of a wreck right now, because I couldn't fall asleep until 3, and then woke up at 7:30 faintly smelling smoke and wondering if someone was burning leaves. When I heard sirens, I didn't connect it, and when they came closer and closer, I started wondering if someone nearby needed an ambulance. I realized I was also grumpy because of the fucking loud noise, since I had a headache brewing, and then thwacked myself for being petty (someone else needs emergency medical care, but my headache matters more!), so I said a quick prayer for them and hopped to the window to see what was up.
Nothing wakes you up faster than seeing four fire trucks lined up outside your front door, with one more pulling up in a big hurry.
I started screaming for Noah, who was waking up s-l-o-w-l-y and not sure why I was making such a big fuss. I told him to throw some clothes on and come on already because something was on fire and it was probably nearby and please could he move it.
He rubbed at his eyes, pulled on a t-shirt and jeans, and we thumped out onto the sidewalk.
The townhouse next to ours - next, adjoining, sharing a wall - had thick orange flames pouring out of its second-story windows.
My heart stopped. Someone with a walkie-talkie came over to ask us if we knew who lived there. A Middle Eastern couple, with two small kids, I offered, and Noah corrected me. They moved out a few months ago. Do you know who lives there now? No. I shivered and felt guilty for never meeting them. Is everyone out of your house? Yes, I nodded, and then stopped. The cats? Should we - did we need to? He shook his head, said it should be fine, and walked away.
I wanted to send Noah back in for them. I wanted to run and grab Bella and hold her close to my heart. I wanted to clutch Noah's shirt in my fists and make sure he didn't step through that doorway.
There's a fire break every few townhouses, a thick concrete wall. This is the only reason our home is intact. Nothing burned, we're all fine, everything is safe. After about fifteen minutes standing in the early dawn air, the man with a walkie-talkie came back and told us we could go inside, it was all over - although we should probably stay on the first floor. We waited for another ten, just to be sure - long enough for the man who lives next door to arrive, in shock, and verify that no one else was home - and went back in.
There was a light haze of smoke in the air, and everything smelled like sulfur. And without knowing why, I grabbed the phone and called my mom. I barely choked out a "Did I wake you up?" before dissolving into tears, big gulping sobs that made me shake all over. It didn't help my headache any.
Mom sat with me on the phone and did the Mom thing - are you okay, sweetheart, can I help, it's all right, calm down - and I felt stupid for falling apart when everything was okay. I think it's the adrenaline. I think it's the panic. I think it's the shock.
I watch my cats prowl the apartment - calmer now, they were nervous earlier, since they could smell the smoke and hear all of the thumping loud noises, but they seem to know that everything has stopped - and I feel a huge wave of guilt. I didn't grab them and haul them into the car. I didn't go back for them. I was terrified.
If it had been worse, Noah says he would have gone back in. I think I would have stopped him, that clutching raw fear grabbing at my throat and insisting the fire couldn't have him. And yet. My babycats, who I love so much it hurts. I can't even look at them. How can I?
My head throbs, my eyes burn, and everything still smells like smoke. I can't go back to sleep. I think I'm too scared. I know it's all over, and we're safe, and everything is okay, but I keep seeing those flames lick greedily at the walls and I shiver.