Thanksgiving

Whenever the days begin to grow shorter, the scent of burning wood often wafts through the air and throughout my neighborhood alluding to a nearby fire. It is usually around this time of year when my thoughts begin to drift back to the fall of 1999. I was 15 years old that year. My family had moved into an old farmhouse over the summer. The house was at one point a single level, two room home which over the course of time grew outwards, and eventually upwards. The final result was an odd looking structure that could in some areas of the house be described as one level, and at other points three stories tall. My bedroom was the tallest point in the house. I don't know why, but I really liked this idea. It made me feel as if I truly had a space that was all my own. The only way to get to my room was by climbing a ladder into what could be described as a loft. My bed sat next to a window that overlooked the property. During the day I could look out over the grassy hillside that seemed to stretch on for miles. It seemed as if the land ran on and on until it reached the base of the blue mountain ranges in the far distance. It was such a quiet existence. Perhaps I have idealized it over the years, but it was seemingly without problem or care. But it was only this way for but a brief moment.
In October of that year, early one morning, I awoke to the cry of my sister calling out for my Mom. At the time, my Dad was out of town on a business trip and it was just the three of us at home, along with her two month old son, my nephew. As I began to stir I realized that something in my sister's voice had not sounded quite right. What had it been? Panic, or perhaps even fear? I crawled out of bed and leaned over the edge of my loft. I could hear that my mom had already made her way downstairs but I could not make out what they were saying to each other. But there was something else too, a faint noise, but not one I was accustomed to hearing. It was constant and high in pitch. I climbed down the ladder and made my way towards the stairway. As I entered the main living area the unidentified sound seemed to grow stronger and I noticed that the air was filled with a light haze. Immediately I assumed that my sister had attempted to cook breakfast and the sound was the fire alarm protesting her attempt.
"What's for breakfast?" I smirked to her as she passed me to run back upstairs.
If she heard my snide remark she did not let on. In fact, I am pretty sure she didn't even notice me standing there. When I rounded the corner into the kitchen I found my Mom with a bewildered look on her face. She was staring into the adjoining dining room, oblivious to my presence. The smoke in this room was thicker, much thicker. But it wasn't coming from the oven or stove top. That was when I noticed the red fire extinguisher in her hands and the dark billow of smoke rising from beneath the dining room table. For a brief moment it was as if time stood still. All noise seemed to silence, except for the sound of my heart pulsing through my ears. But it all came back to a sharp point when the floor beneath the table collapsed, revealing a red inferno that had secretly grown wild and strong. Now that it had been released it would waste no time as it made it's way up the walls, licking at the curtains and reaching it's fingers towards the ceiling.
"Help me!" my sister cried from her room on the second floor.
Immediately I remembered that my nephew who had spent the better part of his two month life in a hospital could not be around the slightest trace of smoke, or else he could be sent into a seizure. I left my mom in the kitchen as she relentlessly sprayed the white powder into the blaze and ran back to the stairway. Gone was the light haze of smoke that had disguised itself as evidence of a charred breakfast. In the few seconds that had passed, the living room had filled up with a thick dark cloud that was rolling out of the dining room and circling upstairs, as if it were in a race with me to reach my sister. On my way up the stairs the lights began to flicker off and on. Once upstairs the air was thick, like trying to wade through water with shoes on. Although I knew the sun was brightly shining outside, I could no longer see within a couple of inches beyond my face. I tripped over a chair and realized that I was at our computer table, not that far from my sister's room. I began to reach out in front of me, trying to find her door handle but instead found her hand. I held onto her tightly and without a thought turned to run back towards the stairway. But she hesitated at the top of the stairs, pulling on my hand to stop. I peered down into what had been our living room, only now it was a dark gaping hole. Once a place that my family found solitude and enjoyment, replaced by a stairway into hell. At that moment, the floor beneath me began to shake. I reached for the handrail to steady my balance but it was no longer there. Suddenly, the air became still and violent all at the same time as the temperature rapidly increased by several degrees. It was then when I heard a sound I will never forget. It was as if I had lain with my ear pressed up against a railroad track to listen as a train passed on by. I'm on fire, I thought rather calmly, detached from the moment as if I were watching some type of drama and not experiencing it. The force of the fire and the shifting of the floor beneath me threw me off balance and I fell backwards. I crawled up the stairs and away from the edge of the stairway. My throat felt as if it had been seared and I began to cough uncontrollably. I doubled my shirt over my mouth and closed my eyes. I reached out into the room and grasped for my sister. But she was not there. Had she ever been, or had I just imagined her hand in mine? Exasperated I began to pray, I didn't know what to do. Through the darkness I saw a faint glimmer of light. I realized that it was light reflecting from a doorknob that belonged to a walk-in closet. Inside of the closet was a window that opened up above the deck below. I opened the door and crawled inside. Fresh air filled my lungs as the smoke had not completely taken over this room yet. I got to my feet and threw the window open. Within seconds I had climbed out onto the roof and slid down to the edge. I saw my mom holding my nephew and I tried calling out to her. Instead of my voice the only thing that escaped my mouth was a small black cloud. For some strange reason I found this comical and may have even smiled. It is strange the things that can strike you in such a way that not even the world falling down around you can erase it's humor. I dropped down onto the deck and ran to my mom. I realized that she was trying to hold onto my nephew and pull on my sister who was lying on the ground beneath her open window, with tears streaming down her face.
"She jumped, I think she's paralyzed" my mom said.
They always say to never move someone who has possible neck injuries but we had to pull her away from the house before the debris began to fall on top of her. I grabbed her arms and pulled her a good distance from the house, praying that I wasn't causing further damage to her injuries. After that there was nothing more to do, so we just sat and watched our house fall apart right before our eyes. In the moments that followed, everything was a blur. Perhaps it was because I was in shock because I was watching everything we had ever owned go up in flames, or maybe it had something to do with the fact that not five minutes prior I had been lost amidst an inferno only to find myself outside in 30 degree weather wearing only a pair of shorts and standing barefoot on frost bitten ground. Somewhere in the distance I could hear a siren. I was almost positive that it was headed our way, but I couldn't be sure. By the time the fire department arrived the only thing left to save were the trees that had surrounded the house. Everything else was gone.
When we arrived at the hospital, I found that all of my hair had been singed off and what was left had turned an odd shade of orange. My face and arms had sustained 2nd and 3rd degree burns which the doctors threatened to treat with skin grafts. Luckily I healed at a rate that was acceptable to the hospital and the procedure became unnecessary. My sister, who I came to learn had dropped her son from the second floor down to my mom and had then jumped out herself, had only suffered a couple of fractions. Miraculously she only had to wear a neck brace for the next few weeks. My mom and nephew had not been injured, and somehow none of us had inhaled enough smoke to cause any damage.
When we were released from the hospital one of local churches put us up in a cabin they used during their summer camp. It was an odd existence and certainly a period in my life I will always remember fondly. That November we cooked our Thanksgiving dinner in the recreation hall of the campground. I remember my mom, opening industrial sized cans of corn and candied yams, and checking the turkey in the giant oven normally used to feed a multitude of elementary aged children. It's strange the clarity that comes from losing everything, because it makes you evaluate what it is you really had to lose to begin with. I know that things could have turned out very differently for my family. Whenever I hear of a fatality due to a fire I always stop for a moment and count my blessings. My heart goes out to those families because I know how incredibly lucky I am to have survived. These are the memories that come to my mind whenever the days begin to grow short, and the scent of burning wood wafts through the air.