We were moving my ex out of the house we shared. Finally, I was going to get all of my belongings, which would hopefully give me some closure. The only reason I offered to help was I wanted to make sure I got what was mine, including half of the damage deposit.
I worked hard at cleaning each room as we emptied it. The huge window in the living room took awhile but I got it sparkling, at least on the inside. We loaded up his truck and my car once more for his new place before we would load my car with my stuff and call it a night.
When we got back to the house I thought something was wrong. The window I worked so hard on was once again dark and blurry. As we came up to the door we could see the smoke in the downstairs window.
My ex opened the door and sure enough, the place was filling with smoke. He then ran around back to find the source. The kitchen in the downstairs suite was totally in flames. He couldn’t put the hose on it as he was sure it was a grease fire.
Nothing after this point registered. It was like I was running on auto-pilot. I called 911 and tried to wake up the downstairs tenant. I don’t remember doing it but apparently, I pulled him out through his bedroom window. It must have been adrenaline because I didn’t even think of my asthma or fractured back. He had put something on the stove and passed out while it went into flames.
Just then we heard the sirens and within minutes the fire was out. My neighbour told me the next day about how I was a “hero” and all the details about dealing with the police, firemen, and landlord.
I went home tired, confused, and empty handed. I would return to spend a long day salvaging what we could.
I wish I remembered more but, like the window it was just a blur.
Side Note – In the regular posts on this blog and write from my heart and soul. I am using these prompts as a way to take some of the facts of my life and stretch my creativity. They are not far off the truth, but they fulfill another side of me!