There was a house fire yesterday evening. I remember distinctly awaking to the sound of the siren. Coho was howling outside (the sound of the siren always inspires her to do that). At first I was in a daze. Then someone asked on the VHF, "Where's the fire?". The panic struck then. I realized why the siren was going off. My first instinct lead me to the window. There was no smoke anywhere in the village, until I looked way off in the distance- to the corner very far from my home. I pulled on rain gear over my pajamas and hitched a ride down. The sight was a devastating one. A small, one bedroom cabin ablaze in flames. The entire building was engulfed. You could make out each of the beams- they burned a bit brighter than everything else. The crackling was soft, yet loud. There was nothing anyone could do. The village has no running water. Our fire truck's battery had run dead long ago. So we all stood around and watched. I hate to say it was romantic, but in some odd way it was. No one was inside, so we could all just patiently wait until it fell to the ground. And that's what everyone did. In thoughtful silence, among the flames.
