Vaporized

I get home at about 1 am on days when I work my 3-11 shift. The commute isn't too bad, as I can usually sleep on the hour long train ride home, then get into my house with enough energy to burn an hour or two on the computer. One thing I never expected to see at that late hour, when everyone is sleeping, is a huge plume of smoke as I drive down the road.

Panic sets in, and the inevitable foot pressure on the gas pedal, until I advance far enough down the street to see my own home untouched ( with all the lights on). The fire is coming from our next door neighbor's house. His family is huddled across the street, staring at the front of their house, the only hint something is wrong from that end is the smoke issuing from the windows, and a glimpse of orange through the open door. Then I turn the corner, and the back of their house is a chaotic curtain of flame, tongues of evil lashing across the siding, their roof, and their lives. It consumes everything, and the cop cordons off the area while I stand outside with my family, awestruck and selfishly relieved, but still worried. The fire might spread.

It didn't. But the threat was there and so was the fleeting panic. I can only imagine how my neighbor and his family must feel right now. Watching a fire take the material possessions of another is a harrowing experience even if your own life was not touched by the flames. I can't help but feel odd, pity and empathy mixed with relief and a twisted, ugly interest. Everyone loves a spectacle, or so the media would have you believe.

Physiologically, the mix of burning rubber, insulation, shingles, propane, and memories catches in my throat. My mother is coughing up a storm, but me and my brother don't cough. We;ve been tempered in the construction field of New York, and have built up a resistance from three years of breathing in dust and other airborne detritus. I still feel the effects of the flames as I sit here writing this. My body feels tight, and my head is swimming like I've smoked too many cigarettes. I've no doubt i'll wake up tomorrow lethargic and sore. The last sounds I'll hear before I go to sleep are the hum of the remaining fire engine and the low radio buzz of their announcements and direction.

The last thing I'll see will be that sky high plume of heat touching clouds of smoke above the air, and the river of smoking water flooding the street.