I lay back in my old, frail, cushioned chair that sits in my living room, comforted in it's well worn age. The lights from the television set flicker around me in some kind of electrified dance as the images that play on the screen lull me to sleep. I hear a noise, small and unrecognizable, slowly becoming louder until it is booming in my ears. I wake up, looking around in lazy confusion, and find myself squinting against a room full of bright light that seems to burst from the lamps that have been turned on throughout the house. Blinking rapidly as if to clear my eyes of this unwanted intrusion, I see my entire family hurrying around the living room that I had been so comfortably resting in. They are all peering out of the large picture window that looks out onto the usually busy street outside.

Sirens ring in my ears as a beating, red light pulses through the darkness outside. Barely realizing what is happening, my shoes are on, and I am out the door with the others who have already raced out of the house before me. I feel confused, stumbling around in some sort of half sleep state. With a big yawn, I follow whoever is in front of me. There is a new smell that is invading the usually fresh, clean air of this spring evening. It fills my nostrils with the memories of crackling campfires and burning tires. More heads pop out of their small, two-story houses that line the long street to see what is happening. Many people are already following the call of the hypnotizing light that is flashing over and over again. We walk two blocks to the west and then stop. Down one of the lonely side streets where the houses seem to sit back and relax, a crowd is gathering. All heads tilt upward to watch the "spectacular" staged before them.

Flames crawl out of windows in almost hushed silence as it consumes a house that sits neatly on the corner. Voraciously, it overcomes everything in it's path. The torrent of heat claims soul possession of all it touches, and smoke bellows out in clouds of oily black soot. Popping wings of ash fly around in swirls as people ooh and aah at the fireworks exploding above their heads. It seems so strange to actually stand here and watch this happen. This is something that should only be seen on a television show such as "Rescue 911", but this is not a television show, and these people are not actors.

Two young men, each sitting on a bicycle, point and laugh as a portion of the house collapses upon itself in a low, long-winded moan. With grim looks in their faces and brave determination reflecting in their weary eyes, firefighters strut around in their big, manly uniforms. I am almost more interested in the reaction of these people than to the fire itself. It looks as if this is actually entertainment for some. Is it some kind of adrenaline rush that kicks in and makes them hoot and howl as if they were at some kind of morbid rock concert? Not everyone is like this. There are many others that stand quietly off to the side, wrapped in sad silence, but these people are in the background and far away from the fire's burning reach.

Standing tall, a man off to the side of the entranced crowd tries to be strong for a woman that lays in his sweating and burnt arms. Tears flow through the streaks of ash that have somehow found it's way across her sobbing face. Covers of pulp romance novels fill my head at the sight. It just seems too unbelievably dramatic to be real. These things really do happen, and at this horrible moment, I am truly seeing this for the first time.

A small girl who is no younger than seven or eight stands a few feet in front of him. She is wearing pajamas, the kind with feet on the end that grandparents think are just so adorable, and clutches a pink blanket in a little hand. The remnants of some kind of fuzzy, stuffed creature with big ears dangles out of the other. Who is this girl? What kind of future awaits her after the night is done and the people are gone? I try to imagine what may be going through her mind as she watches all of this. Does she understand what is happening to her? My heart goes out to her, for I am sympathetic. Sometimes, I believe I can truly feel what another feels. At this moment, I believe this gift could never be so intense. Is this a blessing or a curse?

As I stand in a neighboring yard and watch, the sirens seem to turn slowly into the cries of angels. Just as quickly as it appeared, the scene is gone, becoming rapidly buried under thick layers of enthusiasts and smoke. The sirens lose their heavenly wails until they are just part of the smokey, chaotic background once more.

It takes a good half hour to watch a life burn down. Many people stay around for an encore but seem to be disappointed to see the last flame flicker out and the fire trucks pull away into the night. These are the neighbors that I had never even known were there before. They begin to drift back to their own homes wherever they may be.

It is very late by the time I make my way back to my own warm home. I feel as if I should never leave, for once I do then this will all be gone. Another day will come around, and everybody will forget. I do not want to forget what happened here today. I refuse to forget. There are little moments in your life when you almost believe that you are within reach of understanding. During such a crisis, you realize what really is important in your life, and if you let this slip by, you may never remember it again. What happens once everybody continues on with their lives? The fact remains that a house that once housed a happy family is now nothing but a burnt and battered shell of what it used to be.

My house is made of the same kind of wood. My house holds the same kind of materialistic goodies within it's four walls. More importantly, my house holds all of my memories, the good and the bad. It is more than just mere shelter. The word "HOME" means so much more than I could ever try to explain.

With the lights turned off and the television turned on, I sit back in my old, frail, cushioned chair. A picture of three people somehow finds it's way into my dreams along with a blazing fire. No matter how brightly it burns, the three still stand together.

Nothing much happened after that. I tried. We did start seeing each other for a bit after that, but then she wrecked my new car (that is a WHOLE other story - coming soon to a web page near you).

"...and on the news tonight, a residential house burned down in the Firestone park area. There were no deaths. On the brighter side, Dave will have a story on..."

-CLICK-