Fire in the night

I must have been ten at the time. My cousin, her husband and one year old baby, Amy lived in a trailer next to us. Living out in the country, living next to someone doesn't mean right next to them, but it wasn't terribly far. I still shared a room with my little brother back then. I think Mom had a fear of fires and didn't want either one of us down the hall. We were directly across the hall from her and Dad. My brother and I were in bed asleep when we heard a loud boom that shook our beds. A few minutes later we heard loud pounding at the door. We could hear Bill (my cousin, Patty's husband) saying the trailer was on fire. The trouble was, we only heard one voice. My brother and I went to the window. We looked out into the darkness but could clearly see a huge ball of fire lighting up the night. You could make out the length of the trailer and the flames came up around the sides and curved around at the top. The fire looked like a cylinder in the night. You could see nothing but the orange flames lighting up the darkness. I remember my brother and I being alone in the bedroom and wondering aloud if Patty and Amy were inside. It was really obvious that if they were it was well past too late. Soon we were downstairs. I don't remember if someone came up and got us or we just went down. I don't remember who told us but we did find out that Patty and Amy were spending the night at my aunt and uncle's house. The smoke detector made a little beep and nothing more, but the furnace had gone out. So, Bill took Patty and Amy to her parents house for the night. He was going to come home and try to get the furnace working. Just as he almost got home the trailer exploded into a ball of fire. I remember watching out the kitchen door as the firetrucks went past our house. Soon our house was full of family. I remember Patty crying. Morning came and everyone was still at the house, but the fire was out. The men had gone up to the trailer to see if anything was left. My brother and I went to sleep on the couch. We, of course, didn't have to go to school after the night we had just spent. When we woke up we overheard the adults talking about the dog. Apparently, Buddy's remains were found hiding under what had been the couch. Patty was crying for Buddy. He was a nice little dog. Then we heard about what had survived the fire and it wasn't much. What did survive made me think about what protected the family that night. I have never stopped believing that the little beep was not a coincidence, even though there wasn't any smoke detected at the time it went off. They lost everything except for 3 angel figurines, a copy of the poem "Footprints" and a Bible. The cover burned off the Bible, but not one page of print burned. I always thought the poem meant that "He" carried them through that dark night. The Bible was God's assurance that "He" was there. The 3 angels represented the 3 guardian angels that must have watched over each of the 3 people who lived there. I thought that in my child mind that day, but I have never stopped believing that. After my brother and I ate we walked to the trailer to see what was left. It was nothing but a huge pile of ash and some pieces of metal. I clearly remember the springs in the couch. The car sitting there with the glass burst out of it from the intense heat. Last night, John and I burned some garbage. While I stood there watching it burn memories of that night came back. When the garbage burned out I looked at the pile of ash that was left and I said to John, "That is exactly what Patty's entire trailer looked like." He answered, "I know. I've been there too." At that moment, I forgot that he had survived a fire. His house had been on fire and he had been inside. I try not to let fire bother me, but it does. I like a nice little fire, but don't let it get uncontained. I get a little worried when it starts to burn a little high. And forget ash! Any kind of ashes bother me to no end. I cannot stand for any kind of ash to touch me. It makes me feel very dirty and like I have to immediately wash. I do not want it to touch me, nor do I want to breathe the smell of it. The smell of dampened ash is nauseating. I can so clearly remember that smell from the morning after the fire. I remember walking through the ash and touching things. I was obviously not afraid of the ash then, but I do not ever remember a time after that I wasn't bothered by ashes. My father in law wanted cremated, probably for the sake of saving money for us. None of us liked the idea. I wouldn't have been able to stand to visit my sister in law if she kept Dad on a shelf in a jar. I just would have been too freaked out. She was very kind and understanding of my fear. She also wanted a burial. So Dad did not get his request for cremation. It bothered those of us left behind. Maybe all of us are a little bothered by surviving a fire.