LJ Idol: Week 14: A Place That Can Not Be
I will forever remember Friday, February 13th 2009. Not simply because it was Friday the 13th, but because that is the day my family lost everything.
It started out like any other day for me. I had a group meeting in the morning for my group thesis project and was sitting at home, working on putting together some retail comps for our report (my masters degree is in real estate development). Nothing exciting at all and I would have rather been doing something else. ANYTHING else I thought. I was waiting for James to get home and contemplating our Valentine’s Day activities. Little did I know that Valentine’s Day was not going to be celebrated at all that year. I would have rather continued working on my thesis prject than what I was about to do.
For my family, it was also a typical day. The “kids” went to school, and since Valentine’s Day fell on a Saturday, they received their balloons and flowers that day at school. My mom always went out of her way to make her kids and grandkids feel special and loved. They couldn’t afford to have a florist do it, so they took their own balloons and flowers up and dropped them off in advance so the kids would get a surprise at school. Grandma took pictures of little Tyler carrying his balloon out, giant smile plastered on his face. Since he was in kindergarten, this was his first Valentine’s Day where he got things at school. Megan was equally excited and had gotten a flower with hers. My niece, Samantha, was in high school and was just excited that the school day was over. She had plans to see her boyfriend after school.My brother William, couldn’t care less about a stupid holiday about romance, he just wanted to get home and play video games. They got home around 3:15.
By 3:45, they would be homeless.
I got the call right at 3:45. My sister was calling me. That was odd. She never called me unless something was wrong. My stomach dropped as I answered. She didn’t even say “Hello”.
I couldn’t make out most of what she was saying through the tears, but I heard “fire” and knew to panic. I could hear emergency sirens in the background. My family’s home was on fire. I asked the obvious questions (“Is everyone out? Is anyone hurt?) as I hurried to grab my bag and pack. I didn’t exactly know how, but I was going to get there ASAP. I had to be with them. I may have been 800 miles away in South Carolina, but I was going to get there no matter what.
She answered that everyone was out and that no, the house was pretty much gone. But I couldn’t make out anything else before the line went dead.
I couldn’t reach her or anyone else again. So I called my husband at work, and in complete shock, I told him everything. He rushed to me and we headed straight home. We tried to get a flight out of Atlanta, but they were too expensive with such short notice. So we drove the entire way. We got to them at 6 AM on Valentine’s Day. The Red Cross has put them up at the local Super 8 hotel.
After eating a solemn breakfast together at the hotel, we went to what used to be our home. It was nothing but rubble and an empty, burnt out shell. The electrical fire started in the back of the house and spread quickly. My sister was outside and saw it, and rushed in to get everyone out. No one recalls the smoke detectors going off, they may have, but no one heard them. If this had happened at night when everyone was sleeping, well, I don’t want to think of how it might have turned out. The fire department did everything they could, but the house was already in poor shape and went down quickly. My family watched as everything they ever knew went up in smoke.
I had volunteered to work on what was left of my niece, Samantha’s room. She was such a wreck, she couldn’t bear going through her things and needed the help. My brother’s room was virtually gone; hardly anything to even try to salvage, and a family friend went through his room for him since it was in such bad shape. Samantha had a few odds and ends that managed to survive because it was the last room the fire spread to. Her clothes were mostly destroyed from smoke and water damage rather than fire itself. The bridesmaid dress that she wore in my wedding and was planning to save for prom was completely destroyed. Yet she insisted on saving it. She folded it up and put it in a plastic bag to “try and clean up later” as the tears slid down her face. It broke my heart. She didn’t have much to begin with, and now even that was gone. Imagine being 16 years old and having everything you own destroyed? She is a very sentimental girl and cherished little keepsakes and mementos (like the bouquet she caught at my wedding almost a year before that, and a photo of her beloved dog who had passed away several months before). Now they were destroyed, soaked with water and covered in soot and she was determined to try and save everything.
After all, they had very little to begin with. My family is very poor, falling within poverty guidelines. The house was not insured because they could no longer afford to pay for insurance. They had just paid the house off in October. My mom and step-dad worked very hard to make sure that was paid off before they were no longer able to work. To make sure their family had a roof over their heads no matter what became of them. They knew that they would never again find a house they could afford with such a low monthly payment, so they did everything they could to keep this one.
It may not have been much of a house. Sure, it was shabby and most people would think it was just awful. Parts were falling apart, as my step-dad tried to fix what he could within their means. I was made fun of it all throughout school because it was obviously a poor person’s house. Nothing special about it at all. But it was our HOME.
And it was gone. In minutes, the fire destroyed everything that my mom and step-dad worked hard for.
Most of my fondest childhood memories were in that house. I remember building forts with my cousin (and best friend) Lisa and having wars where we threw stuffed animals at each other. I remember my baby brother learning how to walk in that house. I can still see him in his crib, laughing at everything with his funny little laugh. We got that on video and loved to watch it over and over again because it was so adorable. But all our home movies burned in the fire. I will never again hear his sweet baby laughter, the way it rumbled on and on for what seemed like an eternity.
I remember hot summer nights when we would sit out on the front porch and listen to the thunder of a distant storm or the chirping cicadas. I remember sitting up late at night with my mom on weekends and when I had breaks from school. It was just the two of us, bonding over tv and junk food. Not every teen can say they enjoyed hanging out with their mom, but I could. Even as an adult, I remember sitting in her living room, watching cheesy reality shows and eating watermelon in the summer time. We both love watermelon and would usually horde a whole one just for the two of us. Our little secret.
I learned how to cook in that kitchen. I helped with many family holidays there. I have so many holiday memories, including setting up the Christmas tree in the living room and playing Santa for the my little brother. We would play Christmas music and set up the tree together, as we sang along and acted goofy.
This was the only home I have ever truly known. I never could feel as comfortable anywhere as I could there. I knew I was safe whenever I walked in the front door. I was happiest when I was home. And now I could never visit that house again.
But I still have my family and I am thankful everyday for that. Because of this, I have moved closer to be with them and do everything I can to help them out. A kind stranger bought them an RV (with help from my step-dads sister), so they have a roof over their head for the time being, even if it is cramped with three people (and their very loved animals). My dream is to one day give them a place to call home once again. My mom fears this may not ever happen, but my one goal in life is to see her have a house again. A home where the furniture isn’t attached and where she can once again host holiday dinners for the entire family.
(This is partners week again. This week, I have partnered with
superhappytime and you read his post here. Thanks so much for being an awesome partner!)
It started out like any other day for me. I had a group meeting in the morning for my group thesis project and was sitting at home, working on putting together some retail comps for our report (my masters degree is in real estate development). Nothing exciting at all and I would have rather been doing something else. ANYTHING else I thought. I was waiting for James to get home and contemplating our Valentine’s Day activities. Little did I know that Valentine’s Day was not going to be celebrated at all that year. I would have rather continued working on my thesis prject than what I was about to do.
For my family, it was also a typical day. The “kids” went to school, and since Valentine’s Day fell on a Saturday, they received their balloons and flowers that day at school. My mom always went out of her way to make her kids and grandkids feel special and loved. They couldn’t afford to have a florist do it, so they took their own balloons and flowers up and dropped them off in advance so the kids would get a surprise at school. Grandma took pictures of little Tyler carrying his balloon out, giant smile plastered on his face. Since he was in kindergarten, this was his first Valentine’s Day where he got things at school. Megan was equally excited and had gotten a flower with hers. My niece, Samantha, was in high school and was just excited that the school day was over. She had plans to see her boyfriend after school.My brother William, couldn’t care less about a stupid holiday about romance, he just wanted to get home and play video games. They got home around 3:15.
By 3:45, they would be homeless.
I got the call right at 3:45. My sister was calling me. That was odd. She never called me unless something was wrong. My stomach dropped as I answered. She didn’t even say “Hello”.
I couldn’t make out most of what she was saying through the tears, but I heard “fire” and knew to panic. I could hear emergency sirens in the background. My family’s home was on fire. I asked the obvious questions (“Is everyone out? Is anyone hurt?) as I hurried to grab my bag and pack. I didn’t exactly know how, but I was going to get there ASAP. I had to be with them. I may have been 800 miles away in South Carolina, but I was going to get there no matter what.
She answered that everyone was out and that no, the house was pretty much gone. But I couldn’t make out anything else before the line went dead.
I couldn’t reach her or anyone else again. So I called my husband at work, and in complete shock, I told him everything. He rushed to me and we headed straight home. We tried to get a flight out of Atlanta, but they were too expensive with such short notice. So we drove the entire way. We got to them at 6 AM on Valentine’s Day. The Red Cross has put them up at the local Super 8 hotel.
After eating a solemn breakfast together at the hotel, we went to what used to be our home. It was nothing but rubble and an empty, burnt out shell. The electrical fire started in the back of the house and spread quickly. My sister was outside and saw it, and rushed in to get everyone out. No one recalls the smoke detectors going off, they may have, but no one heard them. If this had happened at night when everyone was sleeping, well, I don’t want to think of how it might have turned out. The fire department did everything they could, but the house was already in poor shape and went down quickly. My family watched as everything they ever knew went up in smoke.
I had volunteered to work on what was left of my niece, Samantha’s room. She was such a wreck, she couldn’t bear going through her things and needed the help. My brother’s room was virtually gone; hardly anything to even try to salvage, and a family friend went through his room for him since it was in such bad shape. Samantha had a few odds and ends that managed to survive because it was the last room the fire spread to. Her clothes were mostly destroyed from smoke and water damage rather than fire itself. The bridesmaid dress that she wore in my wedding and was planning to save for prom was completely destroyed. Yet she insisted on saving it. She folded it up and put it in a plastic bag to “try and clean up later” as the tears slid down her face. It broke my heart. She didn’t have much to begin with, and now even that was gone. Imagine being 16 years old and having everything you own destroyed? She is a very sentimental girl and cherished little keepsakes and mementos (like the bouquet she caught at my wedding almost a year before that, and a photo of her beloved dog who had passed away several months before). Now they were destroyed, soaked with water and covered in soot and she was determined to try and save everything.
After all, they had very little to begin with. My family is very poor, falling within poverty guidelines. The house was not insured because they could no longer afford to pay for insurance. They had just paid the house off in October. My mom and step-dad worked very hard to make sure that was paid off before they were no longer able to work. To make sure their family had a roof over their heads no matter what became of them. They knew that they would never again find a house they could afford with such a low monthly payment, so they did everything they could to keep this one.
It may not have been much of a house. Sure, it was shabby and most people would think it was just awful. Parts were falling apart, as my step-dad tried to fix what he could within their means. I was made fun of it all throughout school because it was obviously a poor person’s house. Nothing special about it at all. But it was our HOME.
And it was gone. In minutes, the fire destroyed everything that my mom and step-dad worked hard for.
Most of my fondest childhood memories were in that house. I remember building forts with my cousin (and best friend) Lisa and having wars where we threw stuffed animals at each other. I remember my baby brother learning how to walk in that house. I can still see him in his crib, laughing at everything with his funny little laugh. We got that on video and loved to watch it over and over again because it was so adorable. But all our home movies burned in the fire. I will never again hear his sweet baby laughter, the way it rumbled on and on for what seemed like an eternity.
I remember hot summer nights when we would sit out on the front porch and listen to the thunder of a distant storm or the chirping cicadas. I remember sitting up late at night with my mom on weekends and when I had breaks from school. It was just the two of us, bonding over tv and junk food. Not every teen can say they enjoyed hanging out with their mom, but I could. Even as an adult, I remember sitting in her living room, watching cheesy reality shows and eating watermelon in the summer time. We both love watermelon and would usually horde a whole one just for the two of us. Our little secret.
I learned how to cook in that kitchen. I helped with many family holidays there. I have so many holiday memories, including setting up the Christmas tree in the living room and playing Santa for the my little brother. We would play Christmas music and set up the tree together, as we sang along and acted goofy.
This was the only home I have ever truly known. I never could feel as comfortable anywhere as I could there. I knew I was safe whenever I walked in the front door. I was happiest when I was home. And now I could never visit that house again.
But I still have my family and I am thankful everyday for that. Because of this, I have moved closer to be with them and do everything I can to help them out. A kind stranger bought them an RV (with help from my step-dads sister), so they have a roof over their head for the time being, even if it is cramped with three people (and their very loved animals). My dream is to one day give them a place to call home once again. My mom fears this may not ever happen, but my one goal in life is to see her have a house again. A home where the furniture isn’t attached and where she can once again host holiday dinners for the entire family.
(This is partners week again. This week, I have partnered with
superhappytime and you read his post here. Thanks so much for being an awesome partner!)