I wrote this my sophomore year for my English paper Scar Story.
Pop Pop! Pop! Pop, pop, pop! Every time there is a moment of silence that is the sound that goes through my mind. Pop! Pop! Pop, pop, pop! Every time I close my eyes I see the same thing.
People enter our lives just to leave. We have things and then they break. But our losses are over time, not all at once. We take people and things for granted even though we know they will eventually leave or break but we don’t think about shoes, a mattress, a door or even a home as something that we could just lose, in the blink of an eye. Even when we lose something we don’t lose everything all at once. We lose some and gain some, so it evens out. *When we were little people would ask us “what one thing would you save during a house fire?” Our response would be “my GIJOES or my Barbies.” As we got older our responses would change and we would say “my skateboard or my pictures.” Even after the fire people would ask me “what would you save?” I couldn’t help but think “do you realize who you are talking to?” Since that day my response has been the truth “nothing. Nothing was worth it.” *Every moment of silence. Pop! Pop! Pop, pop, pop! Every time I close my eyes. *Every single time. I see the flames. Maybe I should just consider myself lucky. *Maybe. On the morning of Wednesday March 16th, 2011 at around 7:00 a.m. my mom came into the living room, where I had decided to sleep that night, and said “Zipper! Get up! I have caramel puffins in the oven for breakfast.” I didn’t realize that this would be my last chance to sleep on a mattress. I was so happy they were home. They came home from vacation 10 hours earlier and my sister had already gone back to her house. I mean even though I was 14 years old having my parents gone for two whole weeks was different.
As I was getting ready for school, I noticed something weird. The washer had been in my room since we moved there and my mom had started a load of laundry right before she woke me up that morning. When I was getting ready I noticed the washer was doing something funny. It was starting and stopping, starting and stopping. Then I noticed the computer in my room was also off.
I yelled down the hallway “Mom! Why did the power go out?”
“What? The power isn’t out” As I walked down the hallway l looked at the living room wall and realized it looked like police lights on the wall.
“*Mom! What is going on?” “What are you talking about?” “The TV is turning itself off and on!” “I don’t kn- it is power surges!!” Pop! Pop! Pop, pop, pop! Pop, pop, pop, pop! Pop! My mom got my dad out of bed, they were right next to each other, screaming and they still couldn’t hear each other. They went outside to see what they could do, shut off the power and the gas, and as they got to the door to go outside they realized that there was a fire. But I didn’t. I was getting really, really scared. So I walked over to the door so I could put some shoes on but, the smoke was too much to handle, I couldn’t breathe. I had to go to the other door, without shoes. When I got to the door I realized that the treadmill was in the way, and the smoke was filling the house. I moved the treadmill with all of my adrenaline. I left my house for the very last time with a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, pajama pants, and fuzzy socks, no shoes or jacket. Even though this all happened in six minutes, it felt like days. When I got outside I heard my parents screaming for me. I was inside and heard nothing but the explosions. When I was inside I prayed to God that he would save my family. Now that I was out I thought “ehh. *Just a bad day. I can go home tonight and relax.” It didn’t occur to me that the home I just watched burn was the same home I thought I’d be in later that night. Somehow I found enough strength in me to stop crying and call my school to tell the secretary I wouldn’t be coming today.
“Barb, I’m not going to be at school today. My house is on fire. I have got to go. Bye.” Maybe the strength came from my best friend Ashley’s phone call.
“Brandi? Did you know your house is on fire?” She was completely serious but it made me smile.
Maybe it had something to do with everyone in my family being there for us. When the fire trucks arrived I lost it. They have been to the farm I live on many times in the last three years, but never for the house, my home. I watched the firefighters cut the siding off of the house and cut the dining room floor out. When they were checking for hotspots they opened a cupboard door and a four foot flame shot out at them. It surprised everyone! When we were finally allowed back in I couldn’t wait, yet I was so scared. It took me a few tries to go in. The smell of the smoke was so strong I still couldn’t breathe even at 1:00 in the afternoon. We were told had the PVC not been burning we could have saved almost all of our stuff. PVC is full of carcinogens which are cancerous, so anything plastic had to go. Exactly one week later it finally hit me. My friends and I were walking out of choir when I started to laugh.
They asked “What!?!” I continued to laugh and replied “I’m homeless! I’m actually homeless!” They all looked at me with such concern on their faces. Then it hit. I couldn’t hide the tears. The tears from not sleeping in a week and trying to be strong and not let anyone know I was hurting were finally breaking me. This was my breakdown. I was bawling uncontrollably. I was homeless. I was leaving on a band trip one week and two days after the fire. I had nothing. I almost didn’t go. It was too soon to leave my family. I still wasn’t sleeping at night and I wasn’t sure I could handle being so far away. The only reason I went was because my aunt was a chaperone and my cousins were also going.
One year later and we still haven’t moved in our new house. I am so thankful for everyone’s support and love but that still doesn’t heal the emotional scars. *Those flames. That sound. They will forever haunt me. Every time something flashes I think: power surges! Every time someone drops something and it makes a loud noise or even when I make popcorn the popping scares me. *Scar. *One word. *One word that can change your life forever. Everyone has the scars that they are proud of. You know those that you can say “look! This one is from when I crashed the dirt bike. And this one! This one is from chasing my little brother down the stairs.” Everyone has those physical scars, and for some weird reason they make us proud. They make us smile. In our society to shake off the stares we consider our scars an accomplishment, kind of like our own personal trophies. But what about those other scars? Emotional scars. They are easy to hide until we break. If we really don’t want anyone to know, we can hide them. There is no physical proof to prove it. So why are we so embarrassed about emotional scars? Shouldn’t they be even bigger trophies? Emotional scars make us who we are. They make us stronger. Pop.
3 years ago Sunday marks a day where I changed forever. I grew up, realized just how thankful I was for our little community, and decided that I wanted to stay here forever. I couldn't be more thankful for everyone that helped in any way possible. Some days the fire is a distant memory, others it feels like yesterday. I actually watched fireworks at the fair this year, for the first time since the fire. I learned that I am the only one that can define me, not the events in my life. That was a hard day and it didn't really sink in until exactly 7 days later. It all felt like a nightmare that just wouldn't end, but our community was there to catch us when we realized that it wasn't just a nightmare, it was our new life. I couldn't be more thankful for my community, my family, and my friends and all the support they have provided for my family and for other families. After all, that's what small towns do, support, survive, and smile through it all. So, thank you.
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