Grabbing the extinguisher, I bolted upstairs but the fire was too advanced to put it out. I hollered to my son who was asleep in the next room and he jumped out of bed and into the hall, sheilding himself against the heat coming from my daughter's room.
As the kids ran for safety, I woke my husband who, after asking after all of us, grabbed the computer and his work boots.
I called the fire department as I grabbed up the car and truck keys and I was outta there.
Cats skattered as the first of the fire trucks arrived, and we stood outside watching our home lose itself to the flames.
We were all alive, down to the last pet. But we never had been able to afford insurance, so there we were. Homeless!
A long visit with in laws and two rental houses later, here we were moving into our very own home.
The house was out of the city, which was nice, and we had accumulated various and sundry furniture and necessities thanks to the Red Cross and friends.
As we were settling in, my mother brought over a gift.
There was the print I had loved as a little girl. It used to grace the den in my parents old house. It was a scene of horses running wildly in a thunderstorm. Oh, how I would lose myself in that picture, my imagination running wild with those horses.
I remember it used to have a black frame, but when our family was moving to a new house, I had painted the frame light blue to match the living room. Man oh man did I get it! Guess I should have asked first, but I wanted it to be a surprise. It was.
A designer my mom consulted took the picture and rubbed down the frame a bit, exposing the wormwood like so much antiquing. It was better, but soon was replaced with something else and stored for another day. Today was that other day, and I smiled when Mom gave it to me.
I found the perfect spot on the wall just over the sofa and happily told my kids its story.
Well, the former owner of the house now lived just behind us, and decided to pay us a welcome visit.
She entered the front door, looked at the picture and her jaw dropped and she gasped. "Where did you get that?," she practically screamed. I told her Mom had brought it over as it had been my favorite as a kid.
Turns out, it is the very same print that hung in that very same spot for over 30 years, until her dad had died and she had to clean out this house.
I got goose bumps and we hugged and cried. She said it was a sign from her dad.........we were supposed to be here.
I think she's right.
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Comments: 10
The house is beginning to feel like home. At least I know we're where we belong!
Blessings come in all sorts of ways, they're the mortar that holds one together during lifes trials. You look back and wonder just how did one survive mentally not just in the physical sense. I can not imaging a house fire - my husband says its just stuff, but sooo many memories.
I'm glad you're in the right house for you.
You all have the "wow" moment goosebumps my neighbor and I had, don't you? I dare say we are all connected and little miracles such as this punctuate our lives with smiles.