Black as Night

I thought I was ready to walk into the house that night.  I had mentally prepared myself for what we were about to see.  I was wrong.

It was hot in the house, but I couldn't stop shivering.

Everyone around me was talking, but I only heard my tears.

I could see the outline of furniture, but it was eerily black.

Walking through the house, with Maddie holding my hand and Justin ahead of me, was the most surreal moment of my life.  The couch and loveseat were melted down to the springs.  All of the laundry I had just folded was a pile of ashes.  Kitchen cabinets were no longer on the walls, but on the floor.  Dishes were shattered.  Windows were broken.  A wall was gone.  No-

My home house was gone.

Shock.  Sadness.  Shock.  Disbelief.  Shock.

We walked out of that house different people.  Never to be the same. 

Up In Smoke

Have you ever been in a situation where you just can't believe it's really happening?  Like you are watching a scene of your life play out in front of you, but it's not really happening?

That's what the next 12 hours felt like.

Walking up to Justin and Maddie, while firefighters and emergency persnnel coming and going from our house was surreal.  Trying to balance finding out what happened while comforting and protecting Maddie from the possibilities was exhausting. 

My mind never stopped.   We're all okay. This can't really be happening.  What caused this?  Why us?  This year sucks.  We're all okay.  How bad can it be?  They were only gone an hour.  How bad can it be?  We're all okay.  We're all okay.  We're all okay.  This sucks.

The firefighters came over and told us it was a relatively small fire.  Thank God.  But there was a lot of smoke damage.  How bad can smoke be?  And it was still really hot in the house.  Wait- you just told us it was a small fire.  How can it still be hot?  And that they had to shut off the water and electricity.  I guess that means we won't be staying at the house tonight. .  .

We waited until we got clearance to go into the house. 

We walked into a nightmare. 

And the nightmare was named "Smoke."  And Smoke is kinda a bitch. 

The Worse Day Cont.

To read the first part of The Worse Day, go here.

I might have freaked out a little. 

My freak out might have consisted of sitting on the floor in the bar of the restaurant and sobbing.  There might have been some, "What the crap?!"  A friend insisted on driving me home, and I'm so glad she did because I might have kinda collapsed in the parking lot on the way to my car when I called my mom and told her what happened.

It was bad.

I made the phone calls/texts I needed to make.  But it was the same thing over and over again.  "Our house caught on fire.  We're fine.  Justin found it.  We don't know how it started.  I don't know any more details."  I don't know.  I don't know.  I don't know. . .

The ride to my house was interspersed with me staring out the window, more "What the crap?!"s, and trying to downplay it in my head.  It's probably nothing.  The firefighters will probably already be gone and we can sleep there tonight.  If not tonight, we'll be back in tomorrow night.  No biggie.

My friend makes the left turn onto my road.  She says, "You'll have to remind me which house is your's."

Every house on my street had people standing in their yard.  This is never good. 

We rounded the curve.

"Ummm. . . it's the one with the 8 firetrucks parked in the yard."

The Worse Day

I remember going to a church function and playing this ice breaker game where everyone at your table draws a piece of paper.  On the paper is a question and each person has a different one. 

I distinctly remember my question that day.  "What was the worst day you ever had?"  I thought the question was ridiculous at the time, because, let's be real- if the people you are trying to get to know only remember you for your worst day, they probably aren't going to be calling you to meet for coffee any time soon.

I answered, "My wedding day."  Crap -these people think I'm miserable in my marriage.  "I mean, the day itself sucked."  Dang! You can't say sucked at a tea.  Stupid, stupid, stupid! "The florist forgot my flowers.  And I lost the key to the reception place.  And, um, we all got caught in traffic and were late.  But, it's okay now.  We're good.  Really.  No worries.  We've even got a little girl now."   I'm officially never going to have friends.  I'm an idiot. 

That was over 7 years ago. 

And I wish that was the worse day I've ever had. 

My worse day was not that long ago.  February 1, 2012

It was a Wednesday.  Wednesdays were typically very hectic because I worked one job 8-3, then straight to my second job at night. 

I was driving my daughter, Maddie, to school.  We were almost there when she told me she forgot her backpack.  I turned around and went back to get it.  Since we are on a tight schedule in the mornings, this put me late to work.  And I HATE being late. 

When I got to work, I was already flustered because I was late.  Then I found out all of our computers were down.  In my job, that's not good.  My day just kept getting worse and worse. 

I was then late getting to my second job.  Traffic puts me in a foul mood and I just was not wanting to deal with waiting on needy people that night.

I described just how rotten of a day (year, really, but I'll get into that in a future post) I had had and said, "You know, I don't want to say that I can't handle anything else, because I'm afraid God is going to show me."

An hour later, I was walking out of the kitchen and my co-worker told me that Justin was on the phone and that it was an emergency.  Maddie.  Something's happened to Maddie. 

I answered the phone. 

He sounded worried.  "Don't freak out," he said.  "Okay.  What is it?"  I felt my stomach sinking.  Thinking of anything and everything that it could be.  "Stay calm.  Don't freak out, but. . . "

I'll never forget his next words.

"Our house is on fire."

Where To Start, Where to start???

Not long ago, writing on my previous blog was one of my favorite things to do.  I thought of things to write about on a daily basis.  Life.  Family.  Friends.  Work.  And everything in between. 

And then my life hit a little snag.  A small bump.  It got a little harder than I had planned.  And I couldn't write about it.  I had a hard time finding words, much less time to do it.  What had once been a great joy became more like a chore.  It no longer felt like me, but like what my readers wanted me to be.

I decided to take a week off.  Then a month.  Soon, I can't remember my password.  And, really- what was the point?  Everyone has forgotten about it.  And me.  So I gave up my first blog. 

I missed it.  I missed the community.  I missed getting a phone call from a friend or family member and hearing how she loved what I wrote. I missed you. 

 I can't think of how many times I said to myself and to my friends, "I really need to start writing again."  Today, I looked through that blog.  I laughed. I almost cried. I wanted to share some of the posts that I had written with people that I didn't know back then. 

I remembered the joy I had when I wrote.  And I realized I'm still me.  I'm still the flawed, insecure woman that started a blog over 5 years ago.  I've changed.  I've been through a lot and I think this blog is going to have more depth and feeling than my previous one.  But, at the end of the day, I'm still me.  Flawed and insecure.  And just a little batty. 

I make no promises, except that this time- I'm writing for me.  For my recovery.  For my enjoyment.  And if you want to come along for the ride, I'd love to have you.