Burning down the house

       When a person’s house burns down, it can be a very traumatic event.  Most of the time it would be, except when it came to my family.

It was February 2nd 2002, also known as Groundhog Day, and my parents had decided they wanted to go on a date to the Temple.  All my other siblings were elsewhere; probably either spending the night at friend’s houses or out on dates because it was a Saturday night.  I was the oldest at home with no plans and so I was put in charge of babysitting my two younger siblings; Benjamin and Sepherah.  

It was dark outside and we were stuck inside so I decided to turn on the T.V.  We never had anything fancy, just basic TV and VHS's so our entertainment selection was limited.  As I flipped through the channels, pushing the buttons on the television set because we didn't have a remote control, I happened upon what looked like a funny movie.  Groundhog Day with Bill Murray as the star was playing as a holiday special.  Benjamin and Sepherah were sitting down on one of the couches as I watched the show and laughed at the humor it produced.

Recently I had started to learn how to cook little dishes; chili cheese fries, tuna-chicken sandwiches, etc.  While watching the movie, Benjamin came up to me and asked if I would make some chili cheese fries for him because he was hungry.  They were a treat so I thought he was just trying to get some of the good food, but he wouldn't stop pestering me so I told him once the movie was over I would go and cook some chili cheese fries.

We were all engrossed in the movie or so I thought.  I was seated directly in front of the TV and Benjamin and Sepherah were seated on the other couch.  Shortly after Benjamin asked me to make the food, I started to smell something funny.  I kept sniffing and couldn't quite place the smell, but finally I placed it, SMOKE!  I turned and looked toward the hallway, which lead directly to the kitchen, and I saw billows of smoke coming out of the kitchen on the top of the doorway.

Running towards the kitchen, I started to yell and Sepherah and Benjamin to get out of the house.  I stood in the doorway to the kitchen and stared at the stove, our small sauce pot sitting on the front burner with a torch of fire extending from the stove to the ceiling and starting to cover a good portion of the rest of the kitchens ceiling.

My very first thought, before anything else was, 'I'm so grounded.'  Getting grounded was not a common punishment for our parents to give to us so I find it funny that I would think of that first.  Growing up, my mom had constantly performed different kinds of drills with all of us children to make sure we would be prepared in the event of a natural disaster.  She would have us take positions in places around the house that would be most secure in the event of an earthquake.  She would have a designated meeting place to get to when getting out of the house in the event of a fire.  She would even have us repeat to her what we were supposed to do in the event of her biological mother showing up; but that's another story completely.

As the slight bit of shock snapped out of me, I reached to my right and grabbed the phone off of the table.  I ran to make sure Sepherah and Benjamin were out of the house and they were; Sepherah off to the side crying and Benjamin on the front lawn holding his head.  I ran back inside because I wanted to see if it was something I could handle or if I actually should dial 911.  I knew how serious dialing 911 was and that I shouldn't do it unless it was an absolute emergency.

I stood taking in all the flames as a piece of the ceiling fell on the shag rug that covered the kitchen floor and the fire started to spread fast.  I pulled the shag rug up over itself and smothered the small bit of flame.  With the phone still in hand and having yet to dial 911, I ran to the bathroom.  The adrenaline in my body was taking over and unfortunately it was also messing with my logic.  I remember standing in the bathroom doorway looking for a hose and then saying to myself, 'duh,' and running out of the house.  Now there was a small sense to my logic at the time because I had been thinking that the bathroom was a main source of water; sink, toilet, bathtub, blah, blah, blah, give me a break.  I was a 14 year old girl doing the best I could in a less than ideal situation.

Heading out of the house and the phone still in hand, 911 still not dialed, I turned to the side of the house and tried to turn on the hose, but in my panic, I failed to turn it in the right direction.

That was it.  I was done.  Realizing the situation was out of my hands I dialed 911. 

“911 what’s your emergency?” said the 911 operator.  I had heard it dozens of times on TV shows, but never in real life.

“MY HOUSE IS ON FIRE!  MY HOUSE IS ON FIRE!”  I yelled.

“Is everyone out of the house?” said the calm female voice.

“OF COURSE EVERYONE IS OUT OF THE HOUSE!  WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM, AN IDIOT?!”

“Calm down mam.  It’s okay, calm down.”

I couldn’t believe she was telling me to calm down.  I don’t know why I couldn’t believe it, it just seemed so stupid at the time.  “CALM DOWN?!  CALM DOWN!  YOU CALM DOWN!  YOUR HOUSE ISN’T ON FIRE, IS IT?!

“Mam, I need your address.”  The lady said in an exasperated voice.

It flowed from my mouth like my own name as I told her to please hurry and as I finally started to cry.

Just then, my mother’s white Buick pulled into the driveway and I ran full throttle to the car and plastered my sopping face against the window and screamed at my mom, “THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE!”

My mom got out of the car and said, “WHAT?”  I repeated to her that the house was on fire and the first thing she asked was where were Benjamin and Sepherah.  I pointed to a crying Sepherah on the side lawn and a scared Benjamin on the front lawn, holding his head and as I remember it, a slight smile on his face.

I told my mother that I had already called 911 and held up the phone.  I jumped back on the phone and told the lady that my mom was there and set the phone off to the side again.  I’m sure the dispatcher was frustrated that I wasn’t relaying information of what was going on to her, but I had to talk to my mom.

As my mom ran towards the front door, she started yelling at me to turn on the hose and I responded that it didn’t work.  She told me to turn it the other way, and then realization hit that I had indeed turned it the wrong way.  She picked up the hose and at that moment there was a single sprinkler head on it.  Just as she started to unscrew it the water came out in full force right into her face.  As my mother disappeared inside, the full weight of everything that had just happened in the short 3 minutes started to sink in.

Very shortly after, my mother emerged from the house for a breath of air.  As she did, she put her hands on her hips and smiled.  Completely opposite of what most parents would have said and reacted, she said, “Now what have we learned?”

My response?  “Never leave Benjamin alone again.” As tears coursed down my face and Ben stood guiltily off to the side.  My mother ran back inside to try to put some more water on the flames to contain them until the first responders arrived.

Over 10 minutes after I had called 911, the fire department finally showed up.  The firefighters went through the kitchen, soaking everything in it just to make sure there were no underlying hot patches so the fire wouldn’t start back up again.  To clear the smoke, my mom attempted to open the window over the sink, and unfortunately it had been weakened by the fire and broke on her hand.  She suffered a slight cut, but otherwise was unharmed.

As the firefighters were making sure that my mom and I were not suffering from shock or smoke inhalation, they were going over the damages with my mom.  My mom, being thoroughly trained in emergency situations knew what they were doing.  She knew why they were asking her such funny questions and knew that they couldn’t leave her until they were absolutely certain that she was okay.  At this point, she got it in her head that she wanted to mess with them.  She looked about for some obscure subject and saw that the flames had gotten to a bag of Malt O’ Meal cheerios, also known as ‘Toastios.’  She exclaimed in exasperation, “Darn!  The fire got the Cheerios.” And she watched as the two firefighters looked at each other and she could tell from the looks on their faces that they were thinking, ‘yup, she’s gone!’  After she had had her fun, she said, “That’s okay!  We can have Toastios!” and the firefighters got a good laugh.

Sepherah, Benjamin and I were standing out on the street by our neighbors and some of the fire trucks and I had to keep explaining to everyone what happened.  I found it frustrating how everyone kept wanting to know what was going on and wouldn’t mind their own business.

It was decided that we would go spend the night at my Uncle Ryan’s house for the night while the smoke cleared out of the house.  I remember lying down on the ground when I started to cry, thinking about how it was all my fault.  I didn’t know how much damage had happened and I had just gotten an electric guitar for my past birthday and was worried that it had gotten ruined.

I don’t remember going to church the next day, but that doesn’t mean that we didn’t.  I do however remember my mom telling us that we didn’t have to go to school if we didn’t want to.  I remembered that I had a very important test that was going to be held so I had to go.  Typically I would walk to the bus stop with my friend Beatriz, but I was still staying at my Uncle’s house so I walked to the bus stop from there.

Sitting at school in Mr. Nelson’s class I was still extremely melancholy about the whole situation.  After taking the test I laid my head down on my desk in an effort to cry without anyone seeing me.  I was too exhausted to deal with the rest of the day and just wanted to be left alone.  Just then my teacher came up to me and asked if everything was alright.  I told him what had happened and he didn’t know why I had come to school.  He said someone’s house burning down was a pretty good excuse for missing a test and he told me that I didn’t have to do anything else for the rest of the day.

A few interesting things came out of this event.  While my mom was at the temple she was sitting in a session when she suddenly got a urgent prompting to go home right then and told my dad she had to go home.  Due to that prompting, my mom probably saved our house from going completely up in flames.  There was enough damage to the home that made it so we had to move out within a few short days.  Our friends were moving from 6 doors down and they were nice enough to be willing to seller finance my parents.

It had turned out that my wonderful little brother, whom I wouldn’t trade for anything, had decided he wanted to do a favor for me and get started on the chili cheese fries ahead of time while the movie was still playing.  He filled a pot with oil and put it on the stove.  Along with all of the food directly above the stove surviving thanks to a box of baking soda placed in the cupboards directly above the oven, the pot survived and is still in use to this day.

Witness of the Accident September 1st, 2013

From what was already an insane and exhausting day of hunting down car prowlers to recover my little sisters belongings, I didn't think the day could get any more crazy, but I was horribly wrong.  I was driving down the freeway, heading Southbound on I-215 and calming down from the adrenaline filled morning.  There were no other cars around, as myself and the future accident car were in the Redwood Road exit lane.  I have a policy when it comes to driving to always follow a greater distance than most drivers do, so I was about 50 car lengths behind the car in front of me when the car just veered off the road and slammed into the sound wall that protects the outlying houses.  When the car flew off the road it sent up a massive cloud of dust that extended at least 20 feet into the air.

I remember exclaiming 'OH MY GOSH!' as I slammed on my breaks and I pulled off to the side of the road.

After stopping my car, I turned on the flashing hazard lights of my van so that emergency or any other vehicle would stop to help me.  I remember conscientiously leaving my car running, for what reason, I'm not sure.  Grabbing my cell phone instantly, I ran towards the wreckage while dialing 911.  When I got to the car the 911 dispatcher had just picked up. "911 what's your emergency?" I was winded because my van was a good distance away, and I had ran at a full sprint. "There's been an accident. I think the woman is dead. She's hurt bad and not moving."  I looked in the front seat and saw that the driver/man.  He was conscious, but his face was torn open at the lips and blood was steadily dripping from his mouth.  He was confused and had no idea what was going on.  I asked him if he was okay, but it was clear he was not.  Although he was conscious, he did not respond.  There was no doubt in my mind that by the way he was acting he was in shock.  I moved on to the next person to check to see if she was okay, or if she was dead like I initially thought.  The passenger/woman was crumpled up into a ball, her side had taken the brunt of the impact.  One leg folded over the other like she had been forced to cross her legs, and her head was bent horribly to the left. There was a good deal of blood covering her, and anxiety made me not reach for her neck because I had never really checked someone's pulse in a life or death situation.  The passenger side was smashed so far inward that the dash board was pinning her in.  Unlike the driver, the passenger's air bag looked like it hadn't deployed, so I automatically assumed she was dead after I shouted asking if she was okay.

and then I heard the screaming.

Little, tiny, baby cries.

At the time, I was breastfeeding my 10 month old daughter, so biologically my body reacted the way it should when a mother hears an infant cry.  I looked into the back seat, and saw two infants, both about 6 months old, strapped into their car seats. Something hit my stomach and my heart at the same time.  Every mommy instinct in me kicked in, and I pulled the first infant out of the back seat. Making sure she stayed fastened in her car seat, I checked her for any lacerations.  She had no visible wounds aside from what looked like upholstery burn, so I set about checking her reflexes without pulling her out of her car seat just in case there was further unseen damage.

It was very difficult for me to focus.  I had trouble remembering where we were at, and the direction we were heading. Then it was difficult to explain our position because we were on a turn from North to East, but I finally managed to tell the operator where the accident occurred on the freeway.

By that time other drivers had finally started showing up.  I yelled at the first lady I saw to grab the other screaming infant out of the car, but made it clear to leave him in his car seat.  She sat him down next to me, and I started checking him for any obvious signs of bodily harm just like his sister.  It then that I made the connection that the babies were twins because they looked exactly the same age and a great deal alike, just different genders.  Unlike his sister, I had to examine him more carefully to see if he was bleeding from anywhere because he had blood splatter marks all over his face.  I realized, with little examination that it was his mothers blood. The shards of glass that were stuck to his face were from the window that was smashed in on his side of the vehicle.  He had been positioned directly behind his mother.

A man came up and asked if there was anything he could do and I told him to go check the woman's pulse because I hadn't yet.  He went and checked the women to make sure she was dead, but she wasn't.  Her pulse was faint and her breath weak.  Having told the operator that someone else was checking on the woman, the operator told me to put the man that was checking the woman's pulse on the phone. I ran over and gave him my cell phone, then returned to the babies.  He said he was a doctor to the operator, and he started to apply pressure to the bleeding wound on the woman's forehead. Ambulances started to arrive at this time and took over on the lady/passenger and the man/driver. The crowd that had gathered stayed around for a time, but slowly started to dissipate while I stayed sitting with the infants on the ground.  They had to break out the jaws of life to get the woman out, and it was then that I stopped paying full attention to what was happening with the vehicle.  They police officers that had shown up, and the EMT's had ominous looks on their faces, letting me know the news was grim for the woman.

One of the babies was still screaming, the one splattered in the mom's blood, so I told a woman that was watching me to go and see if there was a diaper bag in the back of the car.  Luckily there was and I looked for the formula and a prepared bottle of water. I was grateful to the mother for being prepared for her babies.  It is funny how moms always know how to mix formula; One scoop formula for every two ounces of water.  I started to feed him the bottle that I had prepared, but he had a hard time taking it at first because of how upset he was.  He cried on and off between bouts of drinking his bottle, and I wanted nothing more than to pick him up and comfort him. After he had finished his bottle he finally started to calm down as I sang 'Hush Little Baby' to him and gently rocked his car seat.  I was slowly picking off shards of glass around the babies eyes and mouth so that they wouldn't fall in by accident. The lady standing by me wanted to be helpful and appeared with a washcloth.  I'm not sure where she got it from but she started to rub the blood off of him somewhat roughly.  He started to scream again and I quickly swatted her hand away and explained to her why I was worried. There was still glass on him and with the rubbing she was doing she could have easily caused the glass to cut into him.  The other baby started to cry at that point so I made her a bottle as well with the formula that was in the diaper bag.

The girl baby finished off her bottle and started to cry again so I just rocked her and her brother back and forth in his car seat as I kept singing 'Hush Little Baby.'  A different lady tried to remove him from his car seat, and again I had to swat a hand away and explain to her that there might be unseen damage to him like an injured spine.  The baby just needed some comfort so I searched for a pacifier in the the diaper bag and unfortunately there wasn't one.  At that point I told the lady standing nearby to watch them and not let anyone remove them from their seats as I ran to my van and found one of my daughter's.

Running on my way back from the van to the baby, my flip-flop caught on something and broke so I was stuck limping back to the babies with only one shoe on a yucky shoulder. I know it seems silly, but it bothered me that it happened because all I was trying to do was help.  At that point I filled in the EMT's about the babies so they could take over because the police had asked me to fill out a report.  I was surprised that I had been the only one that saw what had happened.  As I was filling out the report, two police officers stood near to me; I overheard one ask the other how bad it was and the other officer just shook his head and said that he didn't think she would make it.  

After getting home I was really shaken up, the images of the man bleeding and disoriented and the woman balled up were burned into the back of my eyes. Every time I pass that section of freeway I remember them.

The man was in critical condition and the woman died later on when she arrived at the hospital. Later on I found out that the father made it just fine and they were able to lay the mother to rest a few days later.

UPDATE 6 months later: The babies are both fine, healthy and growing.

The Work of Life

Many of the happenings of my life, when told to people, seem like works of fiction. The genre that is my life cannot be defined by any singular title, but by the gathering of all emotions and descriptions in my heart. Horror, romance, love, hate, forgiveness, trauma, depression, realization, comedy, peace, happiness, indifference, numbness, loathing, venom, evil, good, abuse, music, passion, sex, bondage, paranoia, emptiness, judgement, etc. These are the mini stories and memories of my life... All true, but maybe a work of fiction will be added now and then.