When I was in middle school my parents started talking about moving because they wanted more land and blah blah blah. Well, me being a moody teenage girl told them that I would chain myself to the pipes of the sink before they would get me to move somewhere. (I wouldn't have but it seemed like a good threat.) It never happened. The thought of moving from that house seemed impossible. There was way too much history there. I graduated in 2009 which was also the first year of my life that I lived somewhere other than that house. Since then I have lived in four different apartments, all of which never felt like home. Last year after my brother graduated high school my parents decided it was time to find a new, smaller place since there weren't anymore kids to raise. My brother was still at home, but my parents were ready to get away from him. They found a little house not far from the old one and they bought it. When my mom called me to tell me that they were moving I was not surprised, but I was heartbroken. My childhood home was put up for sale. The next time I would go back to Michigan my home would not be mine anymore. It was the weirdest feeling. Needless to say I wasn't excited to go home to a different house.
My parents let my brother stay in the old house. He found some buddies to help pay bills and partied down all summer and into the fall. When I say partied down I mean, the parties he was throwing were legendary. There were people that would come from cities that were an hour or more away. My sisters would text me about how they were concerned that he was going to get in trouble with the law since my minor brother was hosting parties full of minors with all the booze and pot you could ask for. I was pissed at him for ruining my home. When I went home in September my first night there was spent being the only adult figure at one of his parties. I think I went back maybe twice that entire 3 week trip. It was too much for me to handle. Seeing these people put cigarettes out on my living room floor or spilling beer all over the downstairs floor, it infuriated me. I told my dad how I felt and that was that, I never spoke about it again to my family.
As the season changed into winter I began to get a little worried that my brother and his friends weren't going to stay warm since the house was heated by a wood stove and my brother was too lazy to chop wood. My dad ensured me that they were all fine and he was helping teach my brother how to run the house. See, my dad made the house what it was so he could sense when something was wrong. He could tell that the pipes were frozen before ever turning on the water. He knew when the fire in the wood stove was low by the smell of the air coming from the vents. It was his and he was the only one that knew every nook and cranny. I was unable to go home for Christmas, so I ended up Skyping with my family on Christmas Eve. Another weird experience for me. Not only was it my first Christmas away from my family, but it was the first Christmas not in the house I grew up in. Every year my mom hired the same Santa to visit on Christmas Eve to give us each one present. It was a magical time of year and our house always felt even more magical. This year, I Skyped my family as they sat in my dad's man cave basement and waited for Santa. Bullshit. Definitely not magical. I did the same on New Year. 2012 wrapped up to be a very interesting year for my home.
On the morning of February 6th 2013 I received a phone call at 4 am my time, which would be 7 am Michigan time. At first I didn't answer because I didn't recognize the number. Then when it called again I answered because I got that gut feeling it was important, especially at that hour. It was my mom. I could tell something was wrong almost immediately. Her first words to me were, "Its gone Frank. Its gone. Scotts fine but the house is gone." I shot straight up in my bed in a panic. What?! What do you mean the house is gone?! Did Scotty get out okay? Did he have any friends there? Did they get out okay? Did his dog get out? Did he have time to save anything? What do you mean its gone? How? She continued to tell me that a volunteer fireman at work (also the man that played our yearly Santa) yelled to her that Scotty's house was on fire. She followed him out to the house to find the whole thing engulfed in flames. Heartbroken I started crying and asked to talk to my brother. He started crying again when he heard me crying. He told me that he was sleeping and woke up to the smell of smoke thinking it was the wood stove. He got out of bed and opened the door to the wood room only to see that it was ablaze. Immediately he went and woke his friends up and told the girls to get outside as the guys tried to put the fire out with pans and buckets of water. Eventually he noticed that it was inside of the wall and there was no way they were going to put it out. So they all ran outside to the mailbox. (This was the meeting place our parents had taught us to go to if there was ever a fire.) Scotty told me that he realized all of his important documents were in the house so he ran back in to get them. I replied with, "That was risky! But good thinking." I was just happy that he was all in one piece and alive. Actually, I was relieved. I talked to my mom again and we just continued to cry on the phone together. I wanted to catch the next flight home to be with my family. Anthony was currently training so I was all alone. Once I got off the phone with my mom I texted four of my sisters, since I couldn't call them all at once. Lacie responded right away, Bryn was already at the house and sent me a picture, Courtney never responded, and Jody's phone was broken so she was unreachable. It was the most heartbreaking morning. I went to work feeling tired, lonely, depressed, and saddened. I just wanted to go home.
One of my best friends called me and was telling me how sometimes things that happen may seem like a disaster, but in reality they are a blessing in disguise. For a minute I didn't want to believe her, but deep down I knew it was true. Now, my brother couldn't ruin it anymore. My dad wouldn't have to worry about what was going on there. The bills were gone. This house being gone made room for the new house to be more of a home. She was right. I still get sad when I think about it. I move home in a few weeks and I won't have this place to call my home. I don't think I will ever go back there. The house has been bulldozed and they are making way for something else. Whatever it is, it won't be the same. It won't feel like my home. This post is the first time I have talked about the fire in a long time. It feels good to get it off my chest. Thanks guys.
