If you’re a long-time reader or know me in real life you probably know that when I was eight, my house caught fire while we were out shopping.
Because it was dark, the dead of winter (January 9, 1988), and the flames were just beginning to smolder … no one knew til my dad opened the door and yelled that one word that changed my childhood forever: “FIRE!”
Our fire was a tragic piece of my past that inevitably brought my family closer together, but scarred me for life in many ways.
Though I didn’t go into it in this post detailing that frigid January day that changed our lives forever, the residual effects of that day have influenced much of my childhood, teenage years and adult existence — especially with respect to my anxiety levels. Continue reading “Residual Anxiety”
Today’s post has nothing to do with body image, weight, fitness, or anything … I am just feeling nostalgic and wanted to put my family’s fire story into words. I don’t have a photo on hand to share from that day, and I didn’t want to use anyone else’s random photos … but sometimes a post doesn’t need it to resonate. I hope this is one of those.
Female intuition is a very powerful thing, and not something I take lightly.
A Saturday morning 22 years ago, while preparing to head out for the day on a family outing, I innocently asked my dad, “Daddy, what would happen if our house caught fire at night?”
He seemed a little surprised by my question (as it was completely out of the blue), but told me what we’d do — find each other, get out safely, and go to our neighbors’ house to call for help.
As planned, we ran some errands, and pretty much forgot about our conversation. But when we came home later that day … our lives were changed in an instant … and that “what if” conversation we had that morning haunts me to this day.
My dad opened the front door and (I’ll never forget this) screamed the one word that will forever echo in my mind: “FIRE”! Continue reading “The Day Our House Burned Down: Jan. 9, 1988”